The King's Killer
by Fawnfire
Summary: It's astonishing, how everything you've ever known can change in one instant. In just one moment, I went from an insignificant thief to the greatest defiler Araluen has ever seen.
1. Chapter 1

**OK SECOND RA FANFIC! It's all about the King's Killer! This is set after book six! You will no doubt see John Flanagan's characters in this fanfic as they begin a quest to stop the King's Killer. (There might be some couplings along the way...)**

**Rated T for bloodshed.**

_

* * *

The Thief…_

It's astonishing, how everything you've ever known can change in one instant. In just one moment, I went from an insignificant thief, to the greatest defiler Araluen has ever seen.

* * *

The King's dining room was as full as ever, and it was a simple dinner that night. It was mid Autumn, and the weather was beginning to cool down, and the air began to show signs of the biting chill that would come with Winter was in full swing. Inside Castle Araluen, everything seemed so much brighter. Torchlight was elegant, light filled every inch of the rooms, the dining room was marveling.

The cloaked figure stood along the outer most edges. Admiring the social gathering with a critical interest. The long hand crafted dark wood table stretched the length of the room, topped with an even longer silk white table cloth and more food than the petty thief had ever seen in his entire life. At the head of the table sat the King, across from him was the Queen. They exchanged loving looks across the void the table placed between them. They were seated at the shorter ends of each side of the table, all around the rest of the table were honored guests the thief had never seen before.

A dagger glistened under the mottled grey cloak of the imposter, a silver oak leaf hung from around his neck. He sprang, like a wolf leaping after a fleeing Caribou. The cowl of his cloak was tugged around his face, his grey eyes flashed in the shadow shrouding his face. He planted a foot on a vacant chair and propelled him self onto the table, he raced across it.

The thief only had to move a pace or to before he was leaping for the King. He felt weightless. He raised his dagger, the cries of outrage and confusion already slurring his thoughts. He slammed into the King with a vengeance the two collided with the marble floor with a thud. The thieves long bladed dagger embedded itself hilt into the King's chest, the bulk of the Royal Guard was already springing forward. Rough hands groped for him, the King's own he realized.

The thief saw it, he always did when he killed. The dying light in King Duncan's eyes. He heard the scream of the King's wife, he felt the adrenaline, screaming through his veins. And then he picked himself up off the floor quickly and he ran, he was sure that he'd done his job, he only cared about escaping now. The Royal Guard surged after him. Agility had always been one of his talents, and he used it to his advantage now.

"Get him!"

"No! The King!"

The yells and cries were all around him, so close, yet so far away.

Some guards went to the King's side, the rest ran for the killer, streaking after him with swords naked in their hands, howling for his blood. The thief had scouted out the castle and knew a vague route of escape he'd planned on. He went straight for the throne room, the largest room in the castle no doubt. _In one door, out the other._ He told himself, _Straight for the ramparts!_

He skittered to a stop, the second massively built wooden door loomed in front of him. It was closed. There was no time to stop and open it, not that he was strong enough to do so anyways. The cloaked menace spun to face the Royal Guard. The first of them came at him at a run, already swinging his sword for the figure who's back was now against the wall. _Well, this isn't a first, _The thief thought slyly, dragging his own sword free from it's scabbard at his waist. He parried the first overhand strike by his opponent by throwing his blade up, they met with a deafening clang that echoed through the throne room and set the killers teeth to rattling.

More guards were gaining ground, the thief thrust his sword forward at one Guard, and yanked a dagger from his belt, hurling it at another. Once more he silently thanked the Gods for his blinding speed. One Guard fell, another stepped to take his place. Suddenly the door behind the thief opened, and he blocked one last sword stroke before turning and running, more guards blockaded his way, he swept forward, ducked low and surged up with a vicious flick of his sword. He cleared a path through the unsuspecting Guards, and then he was gone, racing out into the glorious court yard now alive with yells and screams and activity.

They all seemed to be screaming at the killer, and only two words that seemed to get through to him as he bolted for an exit were, _Get him! _The words rang wildly in his ears and he raced up a flight of stone steps, forcing his way onto the ramparts. Guards awaited him there, He was trapped, between the Guards following him up the steps, and the ones awaiting him at the top. He stopped, bloodstained sword in hand, and smirked.

"Drop your sword!" Horace yelled, he held his dangerously close to the killer. The sword gleamed in the moonlight.

"As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I don't think I will," Then thief stepped to the wall to his left,and before anyone could stop him, he'd hurled himself over the wall. Feet first, dangerously sharp sword in hand. Horace raced to the wall and looked over, expecting to see the broken body of the killer. Instead there was a large wagon, filled with hay. The thief was pulling his self from the mes of grain, he still held his weapon, but the cowl of his cloak had been knocked back onto his shoulders.

* * *

Horace saw the oak leaf, pinned around the neck of the killer, it glistened in the moonlight. Even from where he stood on the ramparts, he could see the auburn hair and the grey eyes. He saw the conflicting emotions in the killers eyes, then the figure whistled.

A large stallion broke free from the night. It's black and white coat gleamed dully in the muted grey light of the moon. The thief sheathed their blade, the horse slowed somewhat, and then the thief had swung into the saddle, kicking the horse forward into a blinding gallop. The King's Killer disappeared into the fathomless darkness of the night.

For all Horace knew, the killer was a Ranger.

* * *

**Please review and let me know if this is worth continuing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, so here's Chapter 2. I didn't like writing this Chapter all that much, I don't like bringing together groups of characters, I don't portray them very well when I do. The thing labeled "The Killer" is the killer's own thoughts and words, they are basically flashbacks, don't let them throw you off. ^.^**

**Luckily, in this Chapter we get to meet our killer, you'll have to read to find out just who he is...**

**Please read and review, any hints, tips, comments, ideas, suggestions, criticism, is valued. ^.^**

* * *

Halt stared at the casket with a shadowed face, his emotions were unreadable. He was a man of stone, secretly screaming on the inside. The King was dead. He didn't know how many times he'd told himself this, and still, he could not believe it. King Duncan, gone, dead, _murdered_

.

The King's Killer was yet to be found, seen or heard of, and Halt couldn't do anything but be disgusted by this. The most important man in the entire Kingdom of Araluen was dead, and all the witnesses had to say for the Killer was that he was a Ranger.

Halt didn't believe this to be true, but he could not deny it either. He hadn't been there to witness the brutal murder, and he was fairly certain if he had, they would have the killer, or his body at least.

Beside him stood his former apprentice Will, his young face was a mask of shock and grief, and Halt could do little to reassure him. Across the throne room stood the King's family. His wife and daughter stuck close together, Horace stood alongside Cassandra, offering silent reassurance to the Princess.

Halt swore he'd find the killer, even if he had to tear all of Araluen apart to do it.

* * *

**The Killer**

They asked me if I'd die for her. I told them to make it quick.

They asked me if I'd kill for her. I told them to give me a knife.

They told me to kill the King for her.

I did.

* * *

Afternoon light flooded in through an open window to pool on the floor in a bright rectangle of sunlight. Dane rolled over, buried his head in his pillow and closed his eyes. Before him flashed the gruesome images of the King's death. The young man could not yet bring himself to believe the brutality of his actions. Someone opened the door of his small cramped room in the dowdy cabin. The hinges shrieked in protest and Dane rolled over. Sole was standing in the door way, his dark brow falling like thunderclouds over his eyes, he had short dark hair and stood erect, wearing the grey and blue mark of his leader.

"What is it?" Dane snapped tiredly.

"It's time to get up." Sole's voice was deep and foreboding, it always reminded Dane that Sole stood almost a whole foot taller than him, and was about double his girth. Unlike the muscular Sole, Dane was little in the ways of broad shoulders and muscles. He was lean, with a decent build and a knack for stealing.

He'd always loved the cloak and dagger business of life, going where ever he pleased, doing and taking anything he pleased. It was highly rewarding, as long as you weren't caught. In the end, it was this that had truly spelled his doom.

Sole was moving towards the bed, "Up," he demanded, snagging hold of one of Dane's arms. It was a vice grip and Dane felt himself being suddenly hoisted to his feet.

"Hey!" he cried out, snatching the bed sheets and dragging them with him, he held them around himself once Sole stood him on his feet.. Sole let him go, which was fine, now that Dane was awake and fuming over his disturbance.

"Get dressed." Sole ordered.

"Then get out." Dane retorted, Sole shot him a look of pure hate, and then left the room. Dane muttered curses under his breath as he threw the sheet back onto the bed and found his clothes. Today of all days he should have been happy. He should be cheerful, and he knew this, but he couldn't help but be grim. He tugged on his trousers, and pulled on a clean shirt, and left the room.

The large living room of the cabin was nothing special. Just paneled wood for the walls and the floor, a bed pressed against one wall, and a door opposite the rickety cot. Windows were on either side of the door, both flooded with sunlight. Sole ordered Dane to put his boots and cloak on.

Dane gave Sole a defiant glare, then did as he was told. "Where are we going?" He asked, as they stepped out the door and into the sun.

"To the King's funeral, to see your handy work."

Dane grimaced. "I want to see Peronel. A deal is a deal."

Sole shook his head, "Not until we are sure the King is really dead." The burly man led Dane to a small lean to. Dane nickered softly to his horse, and the black and white stallion trotted to greet him happily. The tall boney horse pressed it's snout against Dane's neck and breathed his hot air on his owner. Dane patted the horse's muzzle gingerly. Intelligent eyes stared back at Dane.

"Morning, Shadowmere." The horse tossed his head wildly at the sound of his name. Sole ignored the exchange and rounded up his own horse, a brutish looking gelding called Fern. They saddled and mounted, and Sole led Dane to the King's Palace for the funeral he'd caused.

* * *

Everything was different from the night Dane had killed the King. The palace was not full of laughter and there were no swordsmen howling for Dane's blood to be spilled for his sin. Instead it was silent, the throne room was full of what seemed like just about everybody the King had ever known, and even people he hadn't known. They all stood, some crying as they grieved, listening to the preachers words flood through the throne room.

Dane had pointed out to Sole that if he were recognized, they would probably be killed. Sole told him to keep his head down, and cloak up. No one would recognize him, and Sole certainly wouldn't die along with Dane even if someone did.

This didn't reassure Dane the slightest bit. He didn't have any choice but to follow the massive shape of Sole into the throne room and follow him to stand along the wall. They had been admitted into the castle by Dane, who flashed his stolen silver Oak Leaf of the Ranger Corps, and told the guards that Sole was his close relative.

From where they had been placed along the wall of the throne room they could see the King's body, lying lifeless in his casket.

Dane winced, it was a whole new experience, seeing the grief and destruction he'd caused, staring his victim in the face. Duncan's golden blonde hair stood out against his now pale skin, he looked unimaginably cold. He was wearing his Kingly robes now, the one's he'd wear forever, any hint of a wound was obscured. If it weren't for his complexion, Dane could have believed the King was asleep, and not dead. Guilt began to pick at him, and he pushed it away, _it was for Peronel._

Beside him Sole smiled, the only man among hundreds in the throne room to do so. No one seemed to notice. He nudged Dane, "Good work." Then he led Dane from the throne room.

* * *

They might have walked right out of the throne room, and never been seen again had it not been for Halt's watchful eye. His elbow darted into Crowley's side, who stood on the other side of him, opposite of Will.

The Ranger grunted, "What is it?" he hissed impatiently. rubbing his now sore side, he followed Halt's gaze to the cloaked figure making his way to the wide door to leave. Dane felt eyes on him, and he turned to catch Halt's gaze.

The grim Ranger caught the grey eyes, the auburn hair, and the Oak Leaf, hanging from the man's neck in an instant. Crowley's hand fell to his waist, instinctively going for the knife strapped there. Dane looked away quickly, and bumped into a Knight. It was similar to walking into a brick wall, and Dane realized he must look like a fool, walking right into the brute of man's shoulder like he was blind.

"My fault, sorry, my fault."

He muttered his apologies, but the Knight was staring at him in pure shock, and Dane heard alarms, exploding in his mind like wildfire in the driest forest. He swiftly pushed past the Knight, breaking into a half jog to catch up with Sole, who was leaving him behind.

"Sole, we need to hurry," Dane whispered to the thug.

"Why?" Sole was looking at Dane like he was a child, confessing to stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

"Someone saw me. I'm sure of it. We need to leave, _now_." Sole's face showed his fury, something Dane often encountered with his retainer. He shoved Dane forward roughly, and they rushed out of the castle.

* * *

Halt, Crowley, Will, and Horace excused themselves at once, moving to trail after the mysterious figure. They pursued him immediately, Dane cursed under his breath. Horace had stared the killer in the face, and even in the dark night, the face was forever etched into his mind. He'd recognized Dane instantly, but he'd been too wrapped up in his disbelief to take action in the brief encounter. Dane looked over his shoulder, catching sight of the pursuers as they pushed through the crowd.

"Sole, we should run."

"No, we shouldn't. If we run, they run. We'll draw more suspicion than is needed."

"Sole, that's great thinking, but you didn't kill the King…"

Sole grunted, "Fine then. We run."

And Dane did.

* * *

Horace broke forward, galvanized into a run as he saw Dane and his companion lunge forward. The crowd was a problem and getting around the many people crowding the Castle Araluen's courtyard were getting in the way.

Dane and Sole shoved people left and right, making it harder for the Ranger's and Horace to catch up to them. Dane's long years as a thief paid him off now, and his developed skill of escape kicked in.

"Follow me!" He called to Sole, slipping in front of the older man, and plunging forth into the crowd. He knew that the Ranger's wouldn't dare attempt a shot at him or Sole with their bows in the mess of a crowd. For the moment they were safe of the deadly arrows, but their pursuers were gaining.

The Castle stable were up ahead, and the horses were somewhere inside. Dane ducked into the warmth of the stables, the sharp sent of clean straw almost knocking him down. He stood to one side of stables double doors, Sole on the other. The doors were lighter than Dane had expected and before their determined pursuers had caught up with Dane and Sole, they were closed, Sole grabbed a rake from nearby. He shoved it through the two door handles on either door, and he turned and went for the horses.

Dane spotted his horse easily, the boney horse was rearing in his stall at the sight of his master. It took Dane only a moment to calm his horse and free it from the stall. Sole had done the same, and he reached for his saddle. Hostlers and Stable hands shouted their objections.

"There's no time!" Dane called to him, swinging astride Shadowmere's bare back. The doors behind them began to open, the rakes wooden shaft snapped, sending splintering wood flying to the floor. Sole grunted and threw himself onto the back of his horse, and then they were gone, whisking past the Ranger's and Horace. They were forced aside hurriedly, moving out of the way of the riders as they raced for their own mounts.

* * *

Shadowmere's hooves barely seemed to touch the ground as the stallions massive strides bolted along with a ground eating lope. Dane clung to the horses back, close beside him was Sole, who was not doing much better at the moment as he tried to stay mounted. Dane cast a wary look behind him, and saw exactly what he'd feared.

Halt and Crowley were only several yards away from them, one of them was raising their bow.

"Sole, this way!"

Dane turned sharply, plunging straight for a town. Sole swept after him, having more trouble with his mount. Once more Dane used the advantage of the Ranger's not being able to harm any one other than their culprits. Riding through a town rapidly on horseback and firing arrows at your prey was not very safe, for anyone, including the innocent townspeople who were moving desperately to get away from the horses that threatened to trample them.

Dane's escape was close. Up ahead on the far side of the village the dirt road gave way to a thin forest trail that led into a mess of trees. Dane smirked broadly, they were strides away from freedom, or so he thought.

Two mounted figures rode from down from the hill to the Dane's left. They placed themselves neatly in the way of Dane and Sole. They had nowhere to go, and one of them had an arrow nocked to a vicious looking long bow. Dane buried his heels in his horses side, and the stallion came fumbling and skidding to halt ungracefully. Behind him Sole was doing the same. They spun, and Dane muttered several curses under his breath. Two more riders each bearing long bows trotted up.

"Put your hands up," Dane hissed to Sole. The older man shot him a questioning look.

"Just do it, I've done this before," then Dane raised his voice, "I got him!" Sole, looking disgruntled, put his hands in the air as the Ranger's rode to meet them.

Halt kept his bow raised, nudging Abelard to move forward, closer to the thief. He kept his grey eyes downcast, away from Halt, his face was hidden in the shadow of his cloak. The mottled grey and green coloration was one of a Ranger's cloak, and Halt could see the silver chain of some sort at Dane's neck. The Oak Leaf the Ranger suspected was hanging inside his shirt, away from prying eyes. He barely glanced at Sole, but when he did he ordered that he hand over his sword that was fastened to his belt.

Will and Horace were making their way over to the riders, staying on one side of Dane and Sole, Halt and Crowley on the other. Dane wondered who could put an arrow through him quicker out of the three holding bows.

"Put your hands up as well." Crowley said, gesturing to Dane.

"What for, I'm not a criminal." Crowley narrowed his eyes, the voice was oddly familiar. Dane pulled the Oak Leaf from around his neck. To Crowley's dismay, it was the real Oak Leaf, identical to the one he, Halt and Will all wore. Unfortunately, for Dane, his ruse wasn't fooling anyone.

"Your not a Ranger," he declared.

Dane looked outraged, "Who are you to deny it when I wear the Pine Leaf?"

Crowley glared at Dane scornfully, "I'm the Ranger commander. I think I know who are my men and who aren't, and it's an _Oak_ Leaf."

Dane frowned, "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted, examining the Oak Leaf critically. Sole turned to glare at him, the blood had drained from his arms from holding them up so long. Around them the villagers were being to stare at the scene taking place before them. They murmured and whispered about the Ranger's and their two delinquents.

"You couldn't have kept running?" Sole asked plainly. Dane let out a snort of contempt.

"I'm known for doing idiotic things, however, catching arrows is _not_ one of them. I don't plan to start anytime soon either."

Sole had already handed his sword over to Horace, he looked at the Knight now. "Could I borrow my sword just for a moment, I'd like to lend it to my good friend here, point first of course."

Horace shook his head, "As good as that sounds, I don't think I'll let you. If any one gets to spear him like a fish, it'll be me." Sole shrugged.

"Just as well."

Dane was looking cross, "Well it's nice to now everyone thinks I should I be killed!"

Crowley narrowed his eyes at Dane, trying to get a closer look at him, "Pull back your cowl." Dane grimaced, his horse felt the tension and danced sideway a step or two, stamping it's hooves.

"Go on, do it," Will told him. Reluctantly, seeing the arrows nocked to strings, Dane threw back his cowl. In the daylight the thief looked different than he had when Horace had last seen him. His auburn hair was struck by the sun, turning it to a flame of tawny. It was cropped short, and his grey eyes were lighter colored, like a dull silver. Horace was reminded faintly of the moons pale silvery light.

"What?" Dane snapped. Horace looked scornful.

"It was definitely you," he said, confident in his accusation.

Crowley was frowning, "Skart?"

Dane turned to look at him, the scorn in his eyes dying away slowly as he stared at his once close friend.

Crowley shook his head in disbelief, "I knew you were a thief, but I never thought you were a murderer."

Dane smiled sadly, "You'd be surprised what someone will do to protect the ones they love."

Crowley sighed, "I didn't think you had any one close."

"That's what everyone was supposed to think."

Crowley had met 'Skart' many times before, he'd never known his real name. He wouldn't admit it to Dane himself, but the Ranger was impressed by Dane's skills. He was by far one of the wittiest, cleverest, and most relentless thieves he'd ever met. Through out all the time Crowley had known Dane, he'd never seen Dane as more than a bothersome thief. He'd made the thief stay a night or two in the castle dungeons for his most serious offenses, which hadn't been much more than a few sly cut purses or pick pockets.

Halt, Horace and Will looked to Crowley for an explanation. The Ranger's Commanding Ranger shrugged. "We've crossed paths a time or two. He's a well known thief around these parts, I've caught him more than once stealing. I've always let him off with simple warnings, maybe I was wrong to do so."

Dane's expression had turned guarded, "I must apologize for what I'm about to do."

Halt frowned, but it was already too late, Dane's horse was rearing blindly, hooves flashing, lashing out at the Ranger's. Halt ducked and Abelard retreated. Horace took a hoof to the side and was flung from his mount. Will was thrown side ways in his saddle almost losing his seat as well.

"Sole!" Sole was kicking his horse into a gallop, for the trees, Dane lagging behind as he forced his mount under control. Already he could hear the pounding of hooves behind him. He felt a sinking feeling, _would Crowley kill me? _He wasn't sure Crowley would have to, an arrow hissed past his ear, narrowly missing him. Halt could take Dane's life all on his own. His heart was in his throat, apparently the villagers well fair was no longer all too important. The only thing that seemed to be hampering the Ranger's aim was the mounted state. Dane was struggling not to slip from his horses' back, and he knew if he had a saddle, he would have been skewered like a fish already.

They made it to the trees, and just as they reached the tree line an arrow seemed to sprout in Sole's back. He let out a choked cry of pain, and still clinging to his horse, Dane snatched the reins of Fern. Though the mounts were saddle less, they had taken a moment to rein their horses at least.

"Sole, hang on, don't die on me!" As much as Dane hated Sole, the man was his only hopes of ever finding Peronel. His captures had neglected to tell him anything about themselves, other than that they were led by a man named Morrick, and that they had Peronel, Dane didn't know anything else. If Sole died, Dane may never see Peronel again. He wouldn't risk that, and he dragged Fern along behind him, keeping his own horse moving at a rapid pace. He weaved through the trees, he had no idea where he was going. Each hoof step behind him was matched with the beating of his heart.

The Ranger's were closer than Dane had thought, and another arrow hissed past him. He felt fear rising in him like a tidal wave on a low sloping shoreline. It was consuming, and he found himself pushing Shadowmere over the edge, the horse voiced his annoyance at his master. Dane gripped the reins lighter, giving his horse a break in the tension and fear that was picking him apart inside.

Ahead he could see an opening in the tree line, it was growing closer by the second, behind him the sound of hooves slowed, and then he was free, gravel crunched loudly under Shadowmere's hooves. Sole slipped from his horses' back. Dane stopped, dropping to kneel beside the wounded man.

"Sole, hey, speak to me." Dane kept his voice low. He could see the pain in Sole's eyes, the dying light was there. Dane knew Sole was dying, there was no denying that, he couldn't save him, but he could save Peronel.

"Sole, where are they keeping her? Where do I go to find her?" Dane was struggling to get the words out, he was fighting back the instinct to run. Sole's eyes were glazing over, he met Dane's gaze and smiled weakly.

"The… South Cliffs… Murdock's tower…" Sole closed his eyes, Dane caught the sounds of gravel under booted feet. He placed a hand on Sole's shoulder.

"Rest easy." He murmured, then he was on his feet, his instincts as a thief took over, and he followed them blindly. He stopped at a wide oak tree, his horse forgotten, left behind with Sole's body. Someone was following him, on foot. It was like a sixth sense, alarms went off in his mind, if he was a wolf his fur would be standing on end. He didn't have any weapons, Sole had seen to that.

The Ranger's and their Knightly friend, as Dane thought of Horace, would make an easy kill out him. Footsteps. He heard them. He felt them. His breathing stopped for a moment. Horace stepped past the tree, and Dane was on him like a dog lunging for a cat.

Horace was looking towards the horses, where Sole lay dying. Dane took his chance. His hand was already clenched into a tight fist, the middle finger of his right hand jutting forward slightly. Horace turned as he heard Dane's movement, a fist slammed into his temple, Horace dropped to the ground, unconscious. Though Dane wasn't very strong, he'd learned that it was easy to knock someone out when you knew where to place your fist.

Once Dane was sure that Horace wasn't going to be moving again for some time he stooped and stripped the Knight of his dagger and sword. The dagger went into Dane's boot, the sword he carried. He called Shadowmere to him, he climbed astride the horse, forgetting about Fern and Sole for the moment.

With the sword laying across his lap and his hands holding the mane of his horse gingerly, he set off at a blinding gallop. He crouched low over the neck of Shadowmere, he didn't know where he was going. Dane only knew he wasn't ready to die.

* * *

Will checked Horace's pulse swiftly, gently brushing two fingers against the warriors neck.

"He's alright," he informed Halt and Crowley. "I'll stay with him, go after the killer." Halt and Crowley nodded, remounted, and set off, following the hoof prints in the soft soil left by the killer.

Dane heard them before he saw them. The sound of hooves thudding against the ground sent fear spiraling through Dane like a sickness. Ahead the trees thinned, and Shadowmere flung his head into the air as he skidded to stop before a wall of shear rock. Dane swallowed hard.

He turned his mount easily, he was trapped. Halt and Crowley halted their own mounts several yards back from Dane. He drew the sword from its scabbard.

"Skart, put the sword down," Crowley's bow was raised, he wasn't afraid to put an arrow through the thief, even if they had been friends at some point in time.

"I can't do that," Dane said, surprised at how well he hid his fear.

"You don't want to do this," Halt warned him.

"It doesn't matter what I want." Dane told him. _So this is how it ends, _he thought ruefully, _I kill the damn King and she's still in harms way. _He pushed his bitter thoughts away. He kicked Shadowmere forward, knowing his blind charge was the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

Halt and Crowley let their arrows fly. One took Dane in his right shoulder, the other in his left thigh. Shadowmere reared wildly, throwing Dane from his back. He landed with a grunt of pain, his left hand found his shoulder and the arrow embedded there. He'd felt the broad head as it tore into his skin, missing bone but shredding muscle and flesh mercilessly. The arrow in his left leg didn't hurt as much, but he could feel the warm flow of blood spilling from the wound.

Dane had dropped the sword, he didn't know where it had landed, nor did he care. Tears filled his eyes, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. The tears weren't for the pain he was enduring, they were for Peronel, who would pay dearly for his fault.

Crowley crouched beside Dane, they wanted to take the killer alive, and the two arrows hadn't been lethal shots. Despite the fact, Dane could still die from blood loss, something Crowley was doing his best to prevent.

The world twisted and swirled before Dane's blue-grey eyes. He winced, _when did it get so dark? _Splotches of black color blurred his vision, then he was swept away into unconsciousness.

* * *

Peronel stood there, watching Dane with one of her broad smiles that melted life itself. Her long flowing skirts were a light blue, her feet were bare, her long silky auburn hair cascaded down her back like a water fall. Her liquid blue eyes sent fire sparking through Dane. A clean white bandanna held her hair back behind her shoulders, her bangs hung to either side of her forehead, framing her face elegantly.

They were in a meadow, with long leafy grass that brushed against their shins softly. Mountains rose in the distant, their breathtaking beauty, snow lightly topped the highest peaks. A soft breeze carried the scent of lilacs and the slightest hint of summer rain. The sky was a deep blue, that paled where it met the horizon. Dane smiled at Peronel, he was still smiling when he opened his eyes.

* * *

Startled, Dane sat up instantly, pain lunging fiercely through his shoulder and his leg, causing him to wince several times. He was in a soft bed, warm covers had been pulled around him. The walls of the room he was in were stone, the floor a deep mahogany. The sweet pungent scent of herbs found Dane, and he searched the room for the source. Beside him was a small bedside table. An unlit candle and a book lay there, the rest of the room was four walls, a few wooden chairs lined against one wall, and a large window to the left of him. A door lay to his right.

He looked out the window, and scowled deeply. Before him stood the castle of Araluen in it's majestic beauty, bathed in the bright morning light of the sun. The door opened, and Dane turned sharply to see Crowley stepping into the room.

"Good, your up." Crowley's tone was sharp and shrewd. Dane glared at him as only a prisoner could. Crowley moved to lean against the wall adjacent to Dane's bed. In full uniform, the Ranger was as daunting as ever as he leaned on his long bow, the cowl of his cloak lying across his shoulders. A moment of silence stretched between them, and Dane continued his concentrated glare of hate.

"How are you feeling?" Crowley asked, and Dane grimaced.

"Like you put an arrow through me."

Crowley frowned, "You killed the King Skart, what did you expect?"

"Maybe a little bit of gratitude for the things I've done for you."

Crowley shook his head, "And do what? Let you go because you helped me put away a few nasty criminals?"

Dane scowled, "That would have been the greatest expression of appreciation ever."

"I wasn't going to betray all of Araluen by letting you get away."

Dane shrugged, and let it go, Crowley was right, Dane would have done the same thing in the Ranger's position. Then feeling curiosity rise in him he asked, "Why aren't I dead?"

It was Crowley's turn to shrug, "We wanted you alive, your working for someone, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. I don't work for anyone but myself these days. I'm your regular lone wolf."

Crowley looked disbelieving, "I don't believe that for a moment Skart. Who hired you?"

"No one," Dane's words had a note of finality to them, but that didn't stop Crowley.

"Skart, I'm trying to help you, the King's Council might spare your life if we can dig information out of you. Why did you kill the King? Who hired you? When did they hire you?"

Dane rubbed his temples in frustration. "No. One. Hired. Me." He spaced out each word evenly, drilling their meaning home.

"Then why is he dead, and why are you the one responsible?" Crowley waited for an answer, patiently. Dane looked up at him, his grey eyes hard, completely bereft of any emotion. Crowley sighed, he wanted to strangle the thief more than anything at the moment, but he forced his anger into submission. Dane wasn't worth the time.

"Where did you get the Ranger's Oak Leaf?"

This question was one that Dane could answer truthfully.

"You should ask the Ranger of Meric fief."

* * *

**WHEW! **

**The killer's not a Ranger after all! (Maybe he could've\should have been...)**

**I know that the killer is kind of a creepy kind of guy so far, he's supposed to be. He did kill the King... **

**SO! Now we are left to ponder, what kind of past haunts Dane? Why did he kill the King? What relationship do he and Crowley share? And lastly... What happened to Gilan? (He's the Ranger of Meric fief.) **

**Please R&R! Ideas, hints, suggestions, comments, approval, disapproval, it's all valued!**


	3. Chapter 3

**_THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS AND HITS & MERRY CHRISTMAS!_**

**Here's Chapter 3! It's about to heat up, so I'll be updating faster, I don't like to keep reader's waiting during the high point of my stories, lolz. I'll try not to do that, I promise. **

* * *

Gilan's eyes opened slowly open to see four wooden walls towering above him, the ceiling was a pitched thatching of water reed. He started to move, finding he was in a bed that wasn't his, and stopped as pain seared through his side. Gilan let out a gasp and touched a hand to his side, he could feel the bandages there.

"Oh dear, you should lie still." Gilan looked up hazily at a women leaning over him. Her face was tan and creased with worry, her graying hair was tied into a neat knot of the back of her head. Her eyes were a soft brown, and they held concern.

"Where am I?" Gilan asked, trying to figure out what happened to him. He began to gather his muddled thoughts, he was walking through town, leading Blaze through the busy streets. A pickpocket tried to rob a young lady when Gilan stepped in, the thief pulled a knife, everything else was a blank.

"Your in the town outside Meric Castle. A thief took a good stab at you the other night."

Gilan frowned and tried to sit up again, he winced and clutched his side, but managed to stay upright this time. "The other night?" He questioned.

"Yes, you've been asleep for almost two days now, you should really lie back down."

Gilan glanced around the rest of the room. There was a small window to his right, sunlight streamed in and pooled onto the floor in a glowing rectangle of light. He guessed it was around midmorning, the rest of the room consisted of a small table and chair, a night stand with a glass of water on it, and his ranger equipment and clothes, all piled neatly into separate chairs of wood.

"You said a thief did this?" Gilan asked, confused.

"Yes dear, the guards have yet to catch him."

"What'd he take?"

"Oh I don't know." The old maid frowned.

Gilan sighed and thought for a moment, he absently reached for the Oak Leaf at his neck. To his dismay, it wasn't there.

"Did you perhaps take a pendant, it's silver, in the shape of an Oak Leaf?" Gilan asked her hurriedly. He thought is might be possible, they had taken his clothing he noticed, realizing he was sitting with only blankets covering him from the waist down. Most of his bare chest was swathed in bandages.

She shook her head, bewildered, Ranger's were strange beings. "I'm afraid you weren't wearing any gems or jewelry when the guards brought you here."

Gilan felt a cold weight fill his stomach. He thought he had a good idea of what the thief stole.

* * *

The Castle of Araluen's dungeon was not in the least bit elegant or magnificent like the rest of the palatial castle that Dane had encountered. It was haunted by a thick musty odor that made Dane's head reel. The dungeon was made of the same stone as the rest of the castle, gleaming light stone, only in the dungeon it was darker, and coated in a smothering layer of slippery grime. Dane's cell was like any other, small, dark, and damp. Three walls were made of the castle stone, the fourth was iron bars, including an iron door. The iron was rusted and coated in slime.

A slab of stone served as Dane's bed, a thin mattress of straw lay on top of it, along with him, his feet were stretched out and crossed at the ankle. His hands were laced behind his head. He was given two skimpy meals a day, and he could feel his strength ebbing away. Dane had been sent to the dungeon to be held there until his fate was decided, his wounds were still healing though he doubted by the time they were scars he'd be six feet under. He was surprised that he was still alive as it was.

The guards seemed surprised as well, and each meal that Brutus, the jailer brought him was followed with the taunt of, "Not long now." Dane would simply turn his ghostly grey eyes on the grizzly guard and stare him down.

The only source of light among the dungeon was the torches set in brackets after each cell. It was impossible to tell the time of day in the sordid cell Dane inhabited, and so he didn't attempt to. The jailer hadn't made an attempt to chain Dane, though shackles were fastened to the wall. As far as Brutus was concerned, the King's Killer wasn't going to go anywhere under his watch.

To Dane's deepest dismay, he didn't think he could escape, and he didn't attempt to. Dane's future seemed obvious, he would be hanged, or worse in front of the people of the Kingdom. They would make an example of him, secretly he knew he'd failed Peronel. The thought of her losing her own life because he hadn't succeeded was like venom beneath his skin. Dane's life was broken, he just wished Peronel would not have to suffer his fault as well.

Footsteps sounded on the floor outside Dane's cell, he counted at least two men, and he frowned. From the few days he'd spent in the dungeon he'd learned that one guard was bad, two guards was unthinkable. Dane calmed himself and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the footsteps. When they stopped outside his cell his heart sunk. Someone knocked on the iron bars.

"Is this un' him?" Dane recognized the gruff voice of the jailer, Brutus. He heard a soft and clear reply soon after and smothered his surprise.

"Yes, that's him." Crowley's voice was smooth as silk, Dane kept his eyes closed as he pretended to be sleeping.

Brutus unlocked Dane's cell door, and Dane's ghostly eyes flicked up to meet his. Crowley was dwarfed as he stood next to the bulky form of the jailer, Brutus was a burly man with coarse red hair and a matching beard. He wore a uniform of the King, a gold and red tunic. Tucked into his belt was a long knife and a sturdy baton, along with a pair of shackles and his keys. Brutus kept his green trained eyes on Dane as he approached him, "You'll want to stand up," He told Dane.

Dane didn't so much as blink, his grey eyes were the greatest weapon of his appearance, many people thought he was cursed for the unusual coloring of his eyes. He used this to his advantage as he spoke icily, "I'd like to stay in my cell,"

Brutus shook his head, "I'm afraid what you'd like is of no one's concern," Brutus took a step towards Dane, his hand reached for the thief. Crowley was already slipping forward as Dane leaped from his spot and at Brutus, he hit the guard with the flat of his palm and went for the knife at his waist as the bear like man stumbled backwards.

Crowley caught Dane's left hand as his right snatched the dagger out of Brutus's belt. The Ranger twisted the arm behind the thief's back and slammed him against the wall. Dane dropped the dagger and let out a short grunt of annoyance as pain shot through his injured shoulder. The thief's breath had quickened and he ground his teeth together with at the pain in his shoulder. Crowley held him there, pressed against the cold stone of the dungeon as he spoke with a dangerously soft tone.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way Skart, it's your choice, don't make this harder than it has to be."

Dane relaxed slightly, and Crowley ushered Brutus over. The guard had a bruise forming on his lower left chin, his eyes showed his fury as he cuffed Dane's hands together. He shoved him forward and out of the cell, leading him with a vice grip on the smaller mans' forearm. Crowley trailed after them, his eyes watching Dane with a pitiless expression.

They took him up and out of the dungeon and into the fiery light of the morning sun. Dane's eyes watered painfully at the bright sunshine and he stumbled and staggered along with Brutus half dragging him. Dane kept his eyes down and squinted at the ground to keep the painful light at bay. His bare feet absorbed the warmth of the stone beneath his feet and he enjoyed the feeling, it might be his last.

Crowley moved ahead of them and led them to a part of the castle Dane had never known even existed, the stone corridors were accented by the matching tan marble flooring. The surface was glassy and well polished, it felt cold under Dane's feet, and he looked up. Crowley had stopped at a mahogany painted door, he gently pushed it open and slipped inside, Brutus shoved Dane forward and followed after him.

There we no windows in the small room that they brought Dane to. The stone was the same as ever, and candles in brackets along the walls provided an even glow to light the room. A large wooden table with a dark finish stood in the center of the room, two chairs were placed on either side of the longest sides of the table. Dane felt his breath escape him in the slightest hint of a gasp, Crowley tossed him a inquiring look over one shoulder. Dane looked away, but not before he saw who awaited them in the darkly lit room.

Horace, with a bruise on his right temple stood against the wall opposite the door, along with another cloaked Ranger that Dane recognized as Crowley's assistant in his capture. The grim eyes and salt and pepper hair brought a name to Dane's mind, Halt the Ranger. Brutus unlocked Dane's shackles to his surprise, and shoved him towards the chair closest to him.

"Have a seat," He told Dane, seeing no reason to object, Dane did as he was told and draped himself lazily over the chair. His eyes flicked up to Horace and Halt, his expression guarded.

"Have you found your friend yet?" Dane asked in a conversational tone. Halt's grim eyes narrowed, and Dane smirked.

"I'll take that as a 'no'." Dane said and earned a glare from both Horace and Halt. He couldn't see Crowley or Brutus who stood behind him, but he felt them glaring at him in disgust.

"We'll get to the matter of Gilan later," Crowley assured Dane quietly as he moved to the other side of the table to catch Dane's eyes, "First, we'd like to know who hired you to kill the King."

Dane let out a sigh, "I'd hoped you would've given up this hopeless act by now. I was not hired to kill the King, I accepted no payment for killing him."

Crowley stopped in front of Dane and locked gazes with him, "Then why did you kill him?"

Dane shrugged, "I was sick of the taxes."

Horace let out a snort of disbelief, "Thieves don't pay taxes," he pointed out.

"You're not doing yourself any favors," Crowley warned him, "we can't help you unless you tell us something."

Dane barked a laugh, "Aren't you forgetting something? I killed the King, the only thing left for me now is a short drop and a quick stop."

Brutus let out a grunt, "The cutthroat's got a point there."

Crowley's eyes had hardened, "The more you tell us, the more time you'll have to live."

Dane let out a snort of contempt, "Spending one's days in a cell is _not_ living. However, I do see a silver lining to this storm cloud." Dane's eyes danced wickedly.

Horace looked disbelieving, "And what would that be?"

"I think we can strike up a bargain."

Halt was narrowing his eyes, "I don't think your in any position to be doing any bargaining at all."

Dane grinned with his teeth, a wolf's grin. "I see things through different eyes, and from what I understand, I have nothing more to lose. You want to know why I put a dagger into your magnificent King's chest, and I'd like to spend my last days in some comfort."

Crowley sighed, "What're you willing to tell us?"

"For a chance to bathe, a warm meal and a brief attendance from a healer, I'll tell you who I really am."

Halt exchanged looks with Crowley and Horace, consulting silently. They weren't going to lose much by giving the King's killer a little comfort, and if he stuck to their bargain it would pay off.

Crowley nodded to Dane, "It's a deal."

* * *

Gilan left for Castle Araluen after a quick meal of bread and cheese, along with several cups of aromatic coffee. The Ranger had climbed astride Blaze wearily and set off at a blistering pace across the fief of Meric. He'd heard that the King had been killed by a Ranger, but Gilan was fairly sure that the killer was no such thing.

* * *

Dane returned to the small interrogation room a little after noon, his hair was still damp from his bath, his clothes were clean and his wounds were freshly bandaged. He was full of hot soup and a cold drink. The shackles on his hands came off again as Crowley led Dane back into the room.

Halt was present, but Horace had been called off for guard duty. The castle was being more carefully watched than ever, the Queen and her daughter were followed closely by a guard of Knights. They weren't taking any chances, they still didn't know who exactly was out to get them.

"For a thief you ask for very peculiar requests." Halt murmured softly.

Dane shrugged, "Just because thieves live dirty doesn't mean they like being dirty. Thieving is simply the best way for me to get along in life."

"Is killing a good life style?" Brutus asked, and earned a glare from Dane.

"It was," he retorted coldly, "Until I got caught."

Halt's eyes danced with an icy anger, Dane could feel his glare. Crowley gestured Dane towards a chair at the table, and the thief sunk into it lazily.

"We had a deal Skart, time to pay up." Crowley reminded him, "Why did you kill the King?"

Dane raised a shoulder and let it fall, it was his trademark gesture, his most discontent shrug.

"I said I'd tell you who I am, not any reasons," Dane told him, "but that can be negotiated it good time. If I have any left."

Crowley sighed, "What do you have to tell us then, Skart?"

"Dane," the thief corrected him, and Crowley frowned. Halt raised an eyebrow in question.

"What?" Brutus asked.

"My name is Dane, I've lived the majority of my life in the lower city. I've been a thief for years, though I'm not very good at what I do."

Crowley was shaking his head, "Now I know your lying, I've seen your work S- Dane, you're exceptionally well at what you do."

Brutus snorted, "I think I need to get my hearing checked, Crowley, did you just complement the thief?"

"That's not usually a good thing, when your a thief," Dane told him, "It's better when your insignificant. A few coppers missing here and there, a loaf of bread gone off a baker's rack is no big deal. Being a noticeable thief who steals people blind is suicide."

Crowley eyed Dane curiously, "But you've done worse," he accused and Dane shrugged again.

"Eventually my petty acts got away from me, and I was stealing people blind. Someone offered me a job, to get rid of someone else, who was… Bothersome."

"So you killed the King," Halt guessed, but Dane shook his head.

"I've only ever killed for the greater good. An elderly baker hired me to kill his daughter's abusive husband."

Brutus was shaking his head in disgust, "Murder."

"He was beating her and her son," Dane protested.

"That's what the King's Watch is for, they could've dealt with the problem." Halt told Dane. He used a tone that made Dane feel like a disobedient child.

"If the baker went to the King's Watch and the husband was arrested his brothers would be left to deal with the family, _they_ would have gotten the edge of knife. So the baker asked me for a favor, and the brothers wouldn't be able to do anything about a filthy cutthroat who got a hold of their brother one dark night. It's justice, a thieves way."

Crowley couldn't argue with that, just because he didn't like Dane's brutal form of justice didn't mean he wouldn't have done differently. "Then what?" He asked.

"I kept at it, I started doing more jobs for the less fortunate. Most of the time I refused payment, some people just need to be put down. I kept who I really was and where I came from a secret. Some people felt my talents were something they could use against their enemies, but I don't kill without reason."

"What reason did you have to kill the King?" Halt asked, his dark eyes locked on the shifty eyed thief. For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence.

"Among thieves there is honor, and among honor, there is loyalty, among loyalty there is treachery. When I refused to kill the King they threatened to kill me. My life's never meant much to me, for a thief to meet the edge of knife isn't uncommon, I'd accept that fate. They knew it, and they found another way to hurt me."

Halt watched Dane carefully, "How'd they do that?"

Dane looked up at him and held Halt's gaze, the thief's ghostly eyes showed a fathomless depth of sadness and it hurt Halt to look at the thief. "Sometimes, the only way to hurt someone like me is to take what they hold closest to their crooked heart. This whole Kingdom may have loved the King, but she was the only one who loved me."

* * *

**Please Read and Review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! ^.^**

**Ok, here's Chapter 4! I'm sorry it was so delayed, I had mid terms this week, and I've been studying like crazy! I have mid terms next week as well, but then I should be back to updating at a rapidly-regular pace. I hope?**

**Please read and review! **

* * *

Gilan stormed into the courtyard of Castle Araluen just as the sun slipped below the horizon, the court yards inhabitants watched him warily as he dismounted. A familiar voice cut through the crowds shocked whispers to reach him.

"Gilan?" Crowley took Gilan by the elbow to lead him towards the stables; his eyes were locked on Gilan's young face. Gilan gave Crowley a questioning look, was that shock in the Ranger's Commandant's eyes?

"What's wrong? You look live you've seen a ghost."

Crowley's eyes hardened, "Up until now, I thought you were just that. Where in the forest of flocks have you been?"

Gilan shrugged, "In the Fief of Meric, on the road, in an alley with a thief's knife in my side."

Crowley snorted, "I'm actually not surprised at the last one. Have you heard about the King?"

Gilan lowered his head solemnly, "Yes, I have. Crowley I need to talk to you about that."

"Not, here, and not now." Crowley told the young Ranger, he clapped him on the shoulder and left him to care for his mount. He gave him instructions of where to meet up with him later.

* * *

Crowley fetched Dane and brought him to the interrogation room as Dane liked to think of it. He recognized the familiar form of the forever grim Halt, along with a new figure bearing an odd resemblance to someone Dane had met on a dark night recently.

"Glad to see you on your feet Ranger, you didn't look all too well the last time we met."

Gilan glared at Dane openly, and gave Halt a look of disbelief, "This is the King's Killer?" Halt nodded and Gilan shook his head, "I don't believe it, he's not a day over twenty!"

Dane smiled broadly, "I'll have you know in thief years that's mighty old. I hope that we didn't get off to such a bad start, I wasn't aiming to kill you."

Gilan snorted in disbelief, "Oh, thanks, that makes me feel wonderful. Too bad I don't feel the same about you."

Crowley cleared his throat, Gilan and Dane looked at him expectantly. "Mind elaborating?"

"Of course, Granddad and I had a run in recently. I caught him chasing a young woman down a dark alley, a despicable crime to start with."

Dane shrugged, "That's the beauty of it, that kind of crime sets any one of you Royal cloak wearers' blood to a boil. If it wasn't despicable, you never would've gone after me, and I never would've taken a stab at you. Infuriating, isn't it?"

Gilan scowled, the thief was right. "I almost had you."

Dane smiled wickedly, "Don't you just love the prospect of a well aimed kick?"

In the night in the alley, Gilan had grabbed Dane; the woman had run off terrified while thief and Ranger tussled. A lucky kick had sent Gilan crippling to the floor. "That was hitting below the belt and you know it," Gilan accused, meaning it in more way than one.

"I'm a thief, what'd you expect? And I like to think I did you a favor, a certain village girl owes you thanks for saving her life."

Crowley frowned, "You weren't really going to kill her though, were you?"

Dane shook his head, "No, but she didn't know that, and neither did Gilan. While he was picking himself up I drew a knife and gave him a scar to remember," To Gilan Dane said, "I didn't want to cripple or maim you, but I didn't think I could get away unless I did something drastic."

Gilan grimaced, he didn't remember anything after the searing pain of the knife in his side, only the blurring sight of the alley way and the pounding of feet and voices. "It was a poisoned blade, wasn't it?"

Dane looked guilty, "Just a little something to put you out for a while. I took your Pine leaf,"

"Oak leaf." Crowley corrected.

"Yes, that, and your cloak, and then I ran like the wind. I think the girl liked you, she sent half the townspeople after me with pitchforks and torches once you were out. Sole wasn't happy about that."

Halt cocked an eyebrow, "Who might Sole be?"

"The man you killed the day you caught me," Dane admitted, "But that's all you'll get from me, unless…"

Crowley sighed, "Same bargain?"

Dane thought for a moment, "Yes, and I've been meaning to ask you what you did with Shadowmere."

"The piebald stallion?" Crowley inquired.

"That's the one."

"He's in the palace stables, he's got quite a temper too."

Dane smiled, his horse was usually ill tempered around strangers. "Good to hear, it's when he's being nice you have to worry. How long d'you think they'll let him stay?"

Crowley shrugged, his cloak shimmering with movement as he did so. "Depends, if he bites another hostler he'll be pulling carts up steep hills."

"If you could prevent him from becoming dog meat, I'll let you know just who Sole was."

Halt thought the deal was well enough, "And what about Peronel?" He asked, Dane went quiet, his grey eyes turned solemn. In their previous meeting Dane had told them a little bit about Peronel, but not that she was the reason he'd killed the King or who she was to him.

"I don't know yet, what's for dinner?"

Gilan was shaking his head in disbelief, "It's like fattening a pig before a slaughter."

Dane shrugged, "It might be, but by the time I've told you everything I know you'll have to roll me to my execution." The thief grinned wickedly, his white teeth flashing in a predatory grin.

* * *

After a filling dinner and a hot bath Dane was lead by Halt back to the room where Gilan and Horace were waiting. Brutus the jailer no longer accompanied the thief, Halt was confident he could keep Dane from making a break for it. So far the thief hadn't tried anything, and Halt didn't think the thief planned to. As far as the castle and its loyal guards knew, Dane was nothing more than a troublesome thief that was leading the Ranger's to the King's Killer. Crowley had worked hard to make sure that no one knew that it was Dane himself who had in fact been responsible for the death of the King.

They slipped into the small room quietly; Gilan and Horace were seated at the table that dominated the room, talking to one another. Four more chairs were empty. Halt gestured for Dane to take one as he took a place next to Gilan. Dane smiled falsely, "Wonderful weather eh?"

Horace, glaring openly at Dane remained silent as did the Ranger's. Dane sighed and went on. "Where's Crowley?"

"He had to run an errand." Halt said, his voice a constant grim monotone.

"Are we going to wait for him, or shall we kick this off?"

Halt shrugged, "He should be here shortly."

After a moment of silence, Horace gave Dane a level look bereft of dislike for once, "Is Peronel your family? Maybe your mother or sister?"

Dane shook his head, "I've no family to speak of, they're all deceased." The door opened behind Dane, he turned to see a tall woman with long ashen brown hair, just a shade lighter than his own. The girl wore a long fawn colored gown with long sleeves that widened at the wrists. Her blue eyes were mixed silver, with high cheekbones and an arched nose to match Dane's. She was strikingly beautiful despite the rage blooming on her features.

"No family huh? Well what does that make me?"

Dane paled, Crowley closed the door softly behind him. Dane gave him a look of something close to fear, "You could've just signed my death warrant you know."

The girl was shaking her head, she stopped and planted her hands on her hips. "I should put a knife through you myself! How dare you go off and do something so foolish! Don't you know better Dane?! Hasn't your sister had any effect on you whatsoever?!"

Dane stood, "Tawny, I didn't really-"

Tawny silenced him with a glare, she slid a small knife and its sheath from one clothed wrist and passed it to Crowley.

"Be a gentleman and hold this for me? I don't want to kill my brother in the presence of Ranger's and a Knight. That would be un-lady like." She smiled sweetly at Crowley before turning to glare at Dane.

Crowley accepted the sheathed knife with a shrug and slid it into his belt. Tawny resumed her assault on her brother, insulting him about their childhood and his dim wits. They argued as only siblings could, the Ranger's and Horace all looking on with clearly amused looks. Suddenly Tawny embraced Dane fiercely.

"You could've at least said good bye," She mumbled against his shoulder, her voice softening.

Dane smiled, "Goodbye."

Tawny kicked him, he grinned despite it. "Do I want to know why you killed the King?" She asked him, locking gazes with him. He shrugged and looked away, Crowley leaned against the wall and watched him. He'd gone into the city and done a bit of snooping himself, he'd found exactly what he'd been looking for. Skart's 'dead' sister.

Dane shrugged, "Probably not. It's a long story."

Tawny blinked, "I've got the time, and you might only get one chance to tell me before your own time is up."

"I see your point."

"As do I," Crowley said, and ushered towards the empty chairs at the table. They all took seats, Tawny leveling gazes with each of the Ranger's and Horace once she was seated.

"Your Dane's sister then?" Halt asked, and she nodded. The similarities between the two were shocking.

"Unfortunately, yes, we're twins. It seems I got the brains however."

Dane smiled, "And I got the charm."

Tawny rolled her eyes, "If only you knew how to use it."

"Apparently I did something right, Peronel thought so."

Tawny narrowed her eyes at her brother, "Is that what this is about?"

Dane looked away, "Sort of."

"Dane, how many times have I told you-"

"How many times have I listened?" He challenged before she got any further. Halt found Dane's demeanor intriguing. He was hiding something.

Tawny ground her teeth, "I don't think you ever have. You're everybody's greatest fool."

"I know," Dane smiled and his eyes danced wickedly, the spark somehow saddening in his grey eyes.

Crowley cleared his throat, "Your reunion is touching, but would you mind cutting it short for us? Dane, who's Peronel?"

Dane shrugged and smiled impishly. "Someone I might tell you about."

"What about Sole then?" Halt asked.

Dane leaned back in his chair, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "I actually thought we might talk about you today. Mind telling my why you've gone and dragged my sister into this?"

Tawny rolled her eyes, "I was not forced to come here Dane, I wanted to. I didn't want to lose my only brother without knowing why he'd ruined his life by killing the King." Horace and the Ranger's waited expectantly, hoping Dane might give something away to his sister that they had yet to learn. He fixed them with a sizzling glare of grey before turning to stare at his sister with a pain flecked gaze.

"I can't tell you, I'm not ready to die yet," He smiled sadly and Tawny felt a stab of pain. As twins, as brother and sister they had always been close. Knowing that he'd killed the King and refused to tell her was something close to a slap in the face. His pained expression forced her to take pity on him. There was nothing more she could do to soothe his troubled soul. She knew just as well as him that a life as a thief meant the greatest sacrifices. Tawny too was a thief, but she'd never murdered as Dane did. They walked different paths as thieves, while Tawny had only to steal what was absolutely necessary; he went beyond the limits and settled for fair games of murder.

Gilan sighed, "Couldn't you make picking your brain easy?"

Tawny let out a snort of disbelief, "What brain? If he had one, he wouldn't be here in the first place." The sadness faded, replaced now by bitter humor.

"I almost missed hearing you say that, and then you said it again." Dane hissed, clearly vexed. His sister ignored his edgy comment.

Horace brought up Sole's name once more, and Dane began to tell what he knew of his caretaker, never mentioning that he was Sole's prisoner.

"He assisted in the King's murder. He was the reason that I had to attend the funeral. He's to blame for me being caught," Dane said bitterly. Crowley wasn't sure of what to say to that, he hadn't wanted to catch Dane. Part of him had wanted to let his old friend go, his loyalties to the crown and the King himself had kept him from doing so. Thinking of the King, yet another friend of Crowley who had been murdered in cold blood evaporated Crowley's sympathy for Dane like mist on a hot day.

"What else? Who was Sole to you?"

_My caretaker who played a vital part in ruining my simple life__,_ Dane thought sourly, instead he said: "Someone I knew for a little under a month, I'm not glad he's dead though." Dane said, before falling silent, Crowley questioned him a little more, but got little more helpful pieces of information from the thief. Sole was no one important, just a friend that had wanted to see the King's body for himself and dragged Dane along.

Before Crowley led Dane back to his cell they let the thief have a moment alone with his sister. They stood hugging for several silent moments, Crowley stood by the door, pretending that he wasn't paying them any attention. They traded soft words, Crowley catching most of them as they were spoken.

"I'll miss you…" Tawny said quietly.

"Me to, you'll be careful?"

Tawny looked up at him from her place wrapped in his arms, "Will you?" Dane felt the cold brush of steel against his skin as she slid a knife into his palm. He nodded solemnly. Crowley was looking away, not wanting to ruin the last few moments that Dane might ever have with his sister. It gave Dane a moment to tuck the knife away and hug his sister once more; she rested her head on his shoulder.

His whisper was soft, "I'm sorry, I didn't have a choice." This, Crowley heard, it gave him something to wonder over as he rode along side Dane's sister. He'd offered to escort her home and now he kept his shadowed face hidden beneath the cowl of his cloak, beside him Tawny made no attempt to brush away the tears that sprang to her eyes as she left behind her only brother.

The Ranger was still pondering this as he began working on paper work before he turned in for the night, listening to the sounds of the palace servants shuffling by as they went about their business. Crowley had neglected to stay in his cottage, where he preferred to be. Instead the Queen had insisted that he stay in the palace until she felt that she and her daughter were safe. The precaution that she chose to take was understandable; Crowley still believed that Dane himself had not killed the King for himself, but for someone else. He just needed to know who.

* * *

Brutus passed Dane's cell long after dark when most of the palace had settled. Most of the dungeon had quieted as well, and the only sound was the steady drip drop of water onto stone. Suddenly a stone clanged against metal in a cell across the aisle from Dane's, Brutus turned towards the sound of the noise, raising his torch.

Hands grabbed him roughly. The gleamed edge of a knife prickled the jailer's throat.

"Back up two steps," Dane whispered softly, "stay quiet, and I won't hurt you." Dane had thrown the stone intentionally, and snatched hold of the jailer through the iron bars of the cell. With the knife gleaming so close to Brutus's throat, the jailer found no choice but to heed Dane's orders. He kept facing away from Dane, and backed up until Dane could hold the dagger at Brutus's throat with ease.

"Give me your keys," Dane said, holding out one hand. Brutus dropped the ring of keys there. "It's been a pleasure knowing you," Dane whispered before slamming the hilt of the knife into Brutus's temple. The jailer dropped to the floor, unconscious. Dane fiddled with the keys for a bit until he found the right one and unlocked his cell, he smirked as the key slid home and the door swung back on its seldom oiled hinges. Dane took Brutus's sword and keys, and then slipped away silently, heading for the palace corridors. From the bargains that had been made and filled between him and the Ranger's, Dane had been taken to fro about the palace, and he knew the corridors fairly well by now. He evaded the guards on duty with practiced ease. Before he made his escape there was something he had to do, and slunk into the shadows as he started his search for a certain someone.

* * *

The Ranger Commandments rooms were simply furnished, with a hard wood table drowned in paper, quills, and ink wells. The floor was a deep mahogany, the walls the trademark stone of Castle Araluen. Tapestries hung across every wall, telling stories of heroes lost long ago to time. An empty table with chairs surrounding it stood to one corner of the bed chamber. The most dominate part of the room had to be the bed, with its neatly folded comforter and pillows. Crowley sighed as he looked at it, he couldn't wait to sleep.

Crowley unclasped his cloak and hung it on a chair in his chambers, he kicked off his boots, his eyes already threatening to droop closed. He'd been up filling out reports for hours, and the promise of sleep made him giddy. His weapons he'd already put away, and he unbuckled his belt as something clattered to the floor. In confusion, Crowley squinted at the leather sheathed object before him. The Ranger stooped to pick it up, and heard the sound of well oiled hinges at work as he stood again. He stayed facing the wall opposite the door, he already knew what he'd find if he turned.

_You'll be careful?_ The words rang in the Ranger's head, he realized his mistake far too late. He'd let an old friend cloud his judgment.

Crowley's gut wrenched and he grimaced as he felt the point of a dagger prickle his back. Dane put a hand on Crowley's shoulder. It was uncanny, the thief could move almost as silent as a Ranger.

"Dane," Crowley said Dane's name with a bitter edge, making it sound like a statement more than a question.

"Crowley."

Crowley slid the knife in his hand from its sheath, but Dane had the upper hand, he struck Crowley between the shoulder blades before the Ranger could put the blade to good use. The air gusted from Crowley's lungs as he toppled forward. As lean as Dane was he held strength in his boney frame. He came to crouch over Crowley and he slid the knife from the Ranger's hand. Crowley could see his weapons from where he lay sprawled on the floor, his bow and double scabbard lay on the table, just feet away. Dane would never let him reach it, and Crowley knew as much. The Ranger's gaze flicked up to Dane's.

Dane's grey eyes held a fathomless depth of ice as he spoke. His face was expressionless, in the once friendly face that Crowley had known was the distinct marks of a determined killer. Dane held the Ranger's gaze as he spoke, twiddling the knife his sister had given the Ranger for safe keeping.

"I'm afraid you won't be needing this any longer."

* * *

**Ok, that's Chappy #4!**

**I know that Crowley's a Ranger, and he's one of the best, but when you're half asleep, dropping lady's knives you didn't know you had and realizing your grave mistake, your not very... Combative... YET! I also feel that Dane has earned a bit of skill himself, he did almost get away with killing the King...**

**Moving on...**

**Dane's got half a mind to kill Crowley, wouldn't you? A little bit of revenge for his twisted fate? Keeping him alive to pump him for nothing but information until it was time to get rid of him. And what of their friendship? **

**Chapter 5 will reveal Crowley's fate... As well as Peronel's...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5! It seems like an eternity since I have updated, and even longer since I got a review for this story, of The Shadows of the South. =\ Is this story losing its touch?**

**If you haven't read my Shadows of the South I suggest that you do; (If you like my style of writing of course, it's completely your choice though, but reading it and reviewing it would put a bounce in my step. lolz.)**

**I actually had to write a play in my writing class, so I turned this story into a play, it's a lot different but with the same point. The King, is killed! It doesn't have any of Flanagan's AMAZING characters though, =\**

**Please read and review! I'm starting to lose interest in this story, I feel as if it's slipping from it's trail, and I have no reviews to tell me if it is or not. So please let me know, I'm very fickle. =)**

**A flashback does occur in this, don't let it throw you off however.**

**HAPPY READING!  
R AND R! **

* * *

"I'm sorry Crowley, I never meant for things to turn out this way." Dane's words were penitent, but something told Crowley that there was more to what Dane had to say, as shocked as the Ranger was. Hesitantly, the edge of the knife still prickling Crowley's side uncomfortably, Dane continued on solemnly. "This is not what I intended at all."

Dane's words infuriated Crowley and he felt a burst of raging fire flare to life inside him. "You didn't mean to kill the King? Is that what you're saying? That your dagger just somehow ended up in the King's chest and you watched him take his last breath?"

Dane fidgeted, Crowley could hear the younger man's feet shuffle across the floor. Whether he did this because he was nervous or troubled was a mystery to Crowley. The thief was behind him, and Crowley couldn't see even the merest glimpse of Dane without turning and impaling himself on the dagger pressed against him.

"I never planned this. I never once thought about growing up and killing the King. I set a path for myself, one that I could live with. I had a humble living for someone like me."

Crowley swung around and faced Dane, half expecting to feel the searing pain of the razor like edge of the knife the thief held burrow into his side.

It never did.

Dane stepped back and allowed Crowley to face him,

but he kept the knife close at hand none the less.

"A humble living?!" Crowley glared at Dane with wild anger brimming in his eyes. "You're a thief, how in the world is that humble?!"

Dane grimaced and huffed, the sound was close to a growl. "You've never been like me Crowley. You don't know the hardships that face someone like me. Stealing might be a sin to you, but it's just another way for me to survive." Dane's words were short and taut and they held a cold edge to them.

"So that's it then? It's all justified because you can't hold down a job?" Crowley was seething with bitter anger.

Dane glowered at him, "No, it isn't justified, and it probably never will be. Nothing I ever say is ever going to make you see things through my eyes." Crowley couldn't argue very much with that, he didn't approve of stealing in any degree.

With a gusty sigh Dane collected Crowley's weapons from the table and gestured for the Ranger to sit. Reluctantly Crowley did so and Dane tossed the Ranger's weapons onto the end of the bed before joining the Ranger.

"Everything is as it seems Crowley. I'm a murderer, and I'm responsible for the death of the King. Nothing will ever change my fate; I'll have to pay for my actions like anyone else in this world."

Dane paused and let his words sink in. Crowley sat in silence, Dane was telling the Ranger something that he already knew, but he listened intently anyways.

"My reason for killing isn't as it seems. I wasn't hired, and I wasn't bribed." Dane's eyes flickered with a stab of sorrow. "I wasn't given a choice." Dane stared at the wall behind Crowley, and memories flashed before his eyes as he twiddled the knife he still held. Dane's back was to the door and Crowley sat across from him. For Crowley escape would be difficult, but maybe he didn't need to escape yet, he realized.

Crowley frowned at Dane's last statement. "Everyone has a choice, Dane. You and I both know that." Crowley saw recognition flash across Dane's face as they both remembered a simpler time they had spent together.

Dane smiled ruefully, "Every now and then you find yourself at a fork in the road, and you have to choose the path you wish to take. Sometimes the choice is simple, other times it's the turning point of someone's life. Killing the King was simple for me."

Crowley remained silent, observing the new side of Dane's personality with disturbed curiosity. Something about Dane sent a pang of piteous sympathy through the Ranger. As for Dane's proclamation of the King's murder being simple, this agitated Crowley.

"Simple?" He quipped, "I guess that's understandable. You just wake up one day and decide, 'alright, time to kill the King!'"

Dane gave Crowley a pained look, "It was never like that. Killing the King and accepting the consequences was a snap decision for me, leaving her wasn't."

Now Crowley was suspicious, "What do you mean?"

For a moment Dane slipped back in time, and found himself in the market place, a loaf of bread in one hand as he raced down the cobblestone street. The rattle of the Guardsmen's weapons and armor was close by. Dane slipped through the crowd like water through someone's open hands. He turned sharply into a dimly lit back alley and splashed through a puddle or two before erupting back out into the bustling street once more. The guards had a harder time of it and Dane stopped to crouch behind a small seamstresses stand. The seamstress was absent, and her wares of hand woven silk and wool were unguarded at the moment. Dane would be safe there for the time being.

The guards that had been pursuing him burst from the alley way and looked both ways to no avail. Their prey was gone.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caught Dane's attention, he glanced up and his jaw dropped. Framed by the midmorning sunlight was a tall blonde, her wheat colored hair turned to ebony perfection before his eyes by the beaming sunlight. She wore a long dress that resembled burnt sienna and a snow white apron. She was thin, with a rounded chin and eyes that resembled the warmth, comfort and color of coffee. Her skin was a creamy tan, complimenting her gentle demeanor. With a small nose and petite smile she was a sight to behold.

"Where'd that blasted thief get to?!" Cried one of the guards, waving his sword around for emphasis as he scanned the crowd for the shape of the bread thief. Dane snapped his jaw shut and glanced down at the bread he held in one dirt smudged hand, he raised his gaze to the seamstress as the loud footsteps of the guards approached. She didn't meet his gaze but instead turned to look at the guards. She pointed one long elegant arm out towards the winding street of the town.

"He went that way," She said in a delicately innocent voice. The guards murmured their thanks to the girl before continuing to follow the serpent like street after the thief that was now spared.

Her eyes, twinkling with mischief flicked back to Dane's. She stood with her hands on her hips, the slightest hint of a sly smile playing on the corners of her lips. "Well are you just going to sit there and stare or are you going to shuffle out of here?"

Feeling embarrassed Dane rose to his feet, dusting off his cloaked shoulders. He was barely half a head taller than his rescuer. He bowed as kindly as a thief could and attempted a charming smile. Somehow he doubted it had the effect he intended, "Why thank you, my dear."

"Well go on before I change my mind and call back those guards you beggar." The seamstress allowed Dane to pass, and Dane crossed the busy street with a glance over his shoulder. The seamstress had begun to talk to a plump old lady about a purchase when someone tugged on Dane's cloak. He looked down and found himself frowning at the young child that gazed up at him with swollen brown eyes.

The girl couldn't have been a day over seven, dressed in what might have been a nice summer dress at some point in time. Now it was reduced to a smudged and torn gown. The girl didn't seem to be in any better condition than her dress. And yet she gave Dane a toothy smile.

"Mister, would you like me to shine your boots for a coin or two?" She asked, holding up a smudged piece of cloth. Dane glanced down at his boots, they were well worn and muddied from his days run. The girl before him tore at his heart a little, and he dropped to his haunches in front of her so that they were at the same eye level. He smiled wearily at her and passed her the bread he'd worked so hard to steal.

"No thanks, but you can have this."

The girl looked shocked, but she took the bread and smiled at Dane. "Thanks mister, you sure are nice!" Dane watched her run off along the street before rising back to his feet. The seamstress's curious gaze caught his eye. He turned back towards her and she gave him a funny look.

"What? Not all of us are as bad as you think!" Dane called to her over the noise of the streets. She raised her chin, as if considering something, then waved him over. Dane made a discontented gesture and made his way back to the seamstress's stand, but on the inside his heart was soaring.

The seamstress was counting out coins from a small leather purse when Dane reached her stand. He leaned on one of the wooden posts with a sigh. "Something wrong Miss?" His ghostly grey eyes wandered across her pretty young face.

"It was very nice of you to give that girl your bread. Here," She held out a handful of copper pieces. Dane cocked an eyebrow in question.

"What's this for?" He asked, bewildered.

The seamstress smiled and Dane felt a shiver trickle down his spine. "It's for the bread, you seemed like you worked so hard to get it, and then you just gave it away. You've got to be hungry."

Dane frowned and snorted in disgust, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Us thieves work for what we have, and we don't take handouts."

The seamstress cracked a resplendent grin, "Then steal them from me."

"I'm afraid I don't steal from very pretty seamstresses," Dane said, leaning closer.

Mimicking Dane's actions, the girl leaned closer as well, then with only a few inches between him in her she gazed into Dane's eyes and said, "I'm afraid I don't take any interest in petty thieves." Then she leaned away and slipped the coins back into her purse.

Dane frowned, clearly not amused by the turn of events. As far as wooing girls went Dane had quite the charm, usually. He shrugged dismissively and returned to playing the nonchalant thief. "Alright then, maybe another time Miss."

"It's Peronel." She told him with another striking smile.

"Dane," he said quietly and turned to leave.

"Wait," she called after him and went for her purse again, she rummaged through it and noticed that coins were missing. She turned sharply and saw Dane making his way down the street, flipping a gleaming copper coin into the air.

* * *

Crowley's voice dragged him back to reality, "Dane?"

Dane frowned then remembered where he'd been. They'd been speaking of Peronel. Dane ground his teeth together as the memory of their fist meeting drifted away into his mind. "It's never the one you can live with that you fall for, it's the one you can't live without. It's the one you think about when you're walking home on a stormy night, the one that's got you in pieces wishing you could just hear her voice. It's always the one you simply can't have that you fall for, and that's exactly what I did."

Crowley cocked an eyebrow in surprise, "You fell in love?"

Dane nodded in a dismissive way, but a new emotion had entered his eyes and pulled a grin to his face. "Head over heels with a seamstress, she worked for a highborn Lady in the mountains and every now and then they would come down to Araluen and visit with the King and his family. When they did she would set up a little shop and sell fabrics and dresses, and sew things for just about anyone who had a coin to spare. I swear I'd die for her if she asked me."

"I had no idea that you had an interest in anyone,"

Dane sighed, "That's just it Crowley, no one was supposed to know. We kept it as secret as possible. Just like my sister, no one knew I had any blood relatives to speak of and nobody knew that I had someone I cared about. It was perfect, until someone offered me a job."

"What job?" Crowley asked, but something told him he already knew.

"It got around that I was more than a successful thief, the wrong person found out, and they offered me one hundred silver pieces to kill the King. When I refused they continued to up the offer. They went up to one hundred gold pieces, I didn't accept it. Killing the King would be suicide, even if I wouldn't have to so much as look at another knife again as long as I lived." Dane trailed off for a minute, his eyes coming to rest on the knife he held in his hand. Then he looked up with his unsettling grey gaze and caught Crowley's eyes. "I didn't even know they had her until it was too late. One day she was there at the market, the next she was off with her mistress, heading back to the mountains. I didn't know what awaited them up that trail; I just said a quick good bye and went about my day."

Crowley felt a stab of sorrow, it sounded as if Dane really did harbor feelings for Peronel. "When did you find out?"

Dane shrugged, "I guess you could say it was when they were telling me that they would make a deal with me. The leader of the crew said his name was Marwick, and he made it clear that he was all business." Dane's eyes danced with sadness, "The one mistake I made by falling in love was never realizing the price until it was too late. To me my life might not matter much, but her life does. Marwick told me that everything was very simple now, it didn't matter that I was willing to die for Peronel, it only mattered that I would kill for her."

Crowley sighed, "And you did."

"I had to," Dane said in a tortured tone, "out of all the people who loved and respected the King there was only one that even noticed me. This Kingdom has the Queen, the Princess, and fifty Barons that will always be here for the people of Araluen. I only had her, and I couldn't even keep her safe."

Crowley found himself thinking back to the day of Dane's capture, he was trying to decide if he'd known then what he knew now what he would've done about Dane. Would he have let the thief go? "You came close."

Dane was shaking his head, "Not close enough, Sole was supposed to take me to Marwick for payment. If I hadn't been at that funeral she might still be alive."

"How do you know she's not? You fulfilled your part of the bargain. Maybe she's still out there, and maybe Marwick still has her." Crowley's words were a vain attempt to give Dane hope, and to bargain with the thief. Maybe he could make Dane give himself up. "I could help you find her."

"No," Dane said, smiling sadly at Crowley, "You're loyal to Araluen, and you were loyal to the King. Helping his killer is out of the question, and besides, I had twelve days to kill him, and Peronel had twelve days to live. Time's run out. All that's left is revenge."

Crowley glared at Dane, "You don't intend to-"

Dane rose from his chair, "Sole told me where Marwick is, and I'm going to find him. Just like he said, 'a life for a life', Marwick is responsible for Peronel's death, so I'll kill him. I'm responsible for the King's death, and I'm sure that somewhere along the way you'll catch up to me, and then the score will be settled. Every debt will be paid."

The thief looked at Crowley, as if contemplating the Ranger's fate. Crowley chose that moment to spring forward from his chair, moving with the swift grace of a trained warrior. He slammed into a startled Dane and the two toppled to the floor, both wrestling fervently for the dagger in Dane's hand. For a moment it was anyone's game as the long bladed knife slipped from Dane's grasp. Crowley slammed his elbow into Dane's ribs and the thief subsided for the briefest of moments.

Crowley grabbed the knife, groping wildly for it until the hilt was firmly in his hand. His first attempt to move was cut off by Dane as the younger man's fist collided with Crowley's stomach. It didn't matter that Crowley still held the dagger, Dane had drawn the second as he scrambled away from the Ranger.

Crowley rose with all the intention of ending the thief's petty life. Ultimately it was the searing pain that shot through his shoulder that stopped him. Dane buried his second knife hilt deep in Crowley's right shoulder.

Dane left the blade there with Crowley and bolted for the door. Crowley felt the world twisting around him, he couldn't quite reach the dagger that was embedded in his shoulder, and slowly the world around him darkened.

Everything faded to black, the cold floor pressed itself against Crowley's side as the world around him was swallowed away.

* * *

Horace was making his rounds throughout the palace, walking back and forth throughout the corridors, eyes alert for anything suspicious. Everything seemed to be in order, the other guards were alert and intent on their duty, and the change of watch had been successful. And yet, something was off. Something felt oddly out of place to Horace, and as he walked along he discovered what it was that put the feeling of unease into the air.

Along the walls there was an occasional oak wood door that led off into the rooms of the commanders of the King's forces, along with a few odd soldiers and valiant Knights of the King. Horace frowned as he spotted a door that was left open, just cracked enough to let the light of a burning hearth spill onto the stone floor of the palace.

Horace looked down and his blood ran cold, his hand fell to his sword hilt. Leading away from the slightly ajar door was a thin trail of scarlet. It took less than a moment for Horace to jump to his conclusion, and then he was pulling the door open and slipping inside. A cold stone weight of dread formed inside him, he knew who occupied the room as stepped inside.

"Crowley?"

Like a wolf on the hunt Horace followed the trail of blood. The huddled form of Crowley awaited him and he dropped to kneel next to the Ranger, panic rising in him. Crowley's tunic was dark with his blood where the dagger was still stuck in the man's shoulder.

Horace carefully pulled it free and pressed his hand against the wound to stanch the flow. He rolled Crowley gently so he could see the Ranger's face. The Ranger fidgeted and blinked at the sound of Horace's voice

"Crowley, it's Horace, can you hear me?"

Crowley's eyes were glazed, and the attempt to speak seemed to be monumental. Instead he managed the slightest of nods, and Horace breathed the smallest sigh of relief. The cadaverous appearance of Crowley had been enough to scare the wits out of the big warrior, and knowing that Crowley still clung to life was enough to ease the burden he felt on his shoulders.

Horace called for more guards, and it wasn't long before Crowley was being settled into the infirmary, an older man gathering the herbs and salves needed to tend the Ranger.

The big warrior was dismissed from Crowley's room by one of the healer's helpers.

Fortunately, Crowley had managed to tell Horace all he needed to know with one word that the Ranger rasped out.

"Dane."

* * *

The thief wasted no time stopping for the night, instead he rode hard through the dark, guided by the crescent moon floating above him. The black and white stallion panted heavily as the ground passed beneath him in a silver-green blur.

Dane had no trouble holding his seat on the boney horse, and for what seemed like a mere second they were faster than the wind itself, whisking towards the Thorntree Forest like nothing more than a fallen leaf caught on a breeze.

The instant that Crowley had collapsed Dane had been off, racing for the stables. He kept to the shadows as much as possible, knowing that the instant Crowley notified someone with a sword and shield he would be running for his life.

Finding the stables was easy enough, and Shadowmere was right where Crowley said he was. Leaving the Castle was harder than it seemed, but Dane managed to convince the suspicious guards that he was a stable hand on a late night errand. From there it was fairly simple; he'd ridden free of the Castle and all its curses, taking the world by storm.

Dane kicked Shadowmere into a gallop, and let the wind blow away his fears.

Only when Shadowmere's head drooped and Dane could hardly stay up right in the saddle did they stop. The horizon was streaked with pink and orange and brightening before Dane's weary eyes. From a rocky knoll at the edge of the forest he spotted a small Inn cloaked in the willowy fronds of the thorny trees of the forest.

Dane had taken a small purse of gold from one of the many soldier's rooms at the Castle, he paid out to the Inn Keeper a plump sum and asked to be woken at Mid day. The room he was given was small and dowdy, but Dane didn't care. The bed was soft and dressed in clean linen. He tugged off his clothes and flopped onto the bed, dragging the covers over his head. He let sleep take him a wave against a sandy beach.

* * *

Halt stood by Crowley's bedside, his face masked with unreadable emotions. The grizzled Ranger was contemplating if it would be worth hunting down the thief and finishing the filthy beggar himself, or if it was better to drag him back to face the judgment of the grief stricken Queen, along with the furious Crowley.

"I can't believe this!" Crowley said, his hands fisted with anger. "I should've put another arrow in him!"

Crowley had begun to recover well, to say the least. The healer had said that Crowley would live, but do to the significant amount of blood he'd lost he might not be back to his normal self any time soon.

As Halt eyed Crowley now he had to disagree, if Crowley was well enough to spit insults about a thief with such vehemence then there was nothing he couldn't face.

"Crowley, you're foaming at the mouth," Halt told him in an exaggerated tone of voice.

"I am not!"

Halt cocked an eyebrow at Crowley. The Ranger crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

"Alright, maybe just a little, but I gave him a chance and look what happened?" Crowley gestured to his shoulder and winced. "How in the world am I going to go after him now when I can hardly sit up?"

Halt let silence sweep in, hoping it would down play the violent anger of his friend. "You don't have to go after him Crowley."

Crowley snapped his head around to gaze a Halt with a questioning glare. His eyes shifted from questioning to stern.

"No. You're not going."

"And why not?"

Crowley thought for a moment, "Now that I'm confined to a bed, you'll need to help with the Corps."

Halt's innocent gaze told Crowley that he wasn't going to have an easy time of their debate. "Gilan is well suited for that purpose."

Crowley was shaking his head, "I won't risk it. I won't risk any of my Ranger's pursuing that piece of gutter scum, it's far too dangerous."

Halt snorted in disbelief, "This is a thief we're talking about Crowley, I'm fairly certain that I can handle myself."

Crowley remained silent for several moments. The drawn out silence was broken by Halt soft and reasonable tone.

"I know you want to go after him yourself Crowley, but let's face it, Dane's got a head on his shoulders. If he's got anything fumbling around in that mind of his he'll get his revenge and run." Halt held Crowley's gaze, his dark eyes glittering with mischief, "Are we really going to let him get away with murder?"

Reluctantly Crowley nodded his head and conceded Halt's point. "You're right, and it infuriates me. I wish I could go after him myself and give him a piece of my mind and a few of my arrows too. I'll grant you your leave from Redmont."

A ghost of a smile touched Halt's grizzled features, "Thank you."

Crowley shrugged, and then winced abruptly as he jostled his shoulder. "Of course, just one thing," Crowley picked up the dagger Dane had stabbed into his shoulder from his bedside table and passed it to Halt. "Promise me you'll return this to him point first?"

Halt nodded, running his thumb over the scabbard of the knife. He would give it back to Dane gladly before he dragged the thief back to Araluen to face his fate.

"I'll give it to him along your best regards."

* * *

**So that's it for #5! In the next chapter you will learn more about Peronel.**

**Please read and review, let me know if this is to your liking or not. I'm happy with every type of review, suggestions, compliments, ridicules, are all welcome. (Ok, maybe not that last one, but you get the jest... right?)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6, took a lot longer than I thought it would. I didn't really work on it as much as I usually do, I had a whole lot of work in school recently, but we're in the last few weeks now and I should get back to updating regularly. =)**

**Please read and review! It's a big help in motivating me to update quickly. ;)**

* * *

Dane woke in a way very similar to the way he'd fallen asleep the past few nights, with the coverlet wrapped tightly around him, smothering out any light. He stretched and drew himself up onto his elbows and poked his head out of the blanket. After several fits of rapid blinking he guesstimated that it was well after sunrise. The weary thief staggered out of bed, still feeling the dulling ache of fatigue rooted in his bones. He cursed violently as he pulled on clothes, stopping to run a hand through his sleep tousled hair as he slipped from his room.

Dane had been on the move for at least three days now, riding all day and well into the night before stopping off at any Inn he came by, or discreetly sleeping in the barns of farm houses. He bemoaned his exhaustion, but he pushed himself on despite it. He was only a day or so ride from Murdock's tower, where Marwick awaited him.

The Innkeeper called him a greeting as he hastened towards the door, slinging a pack over one shoulder. The portly man was many years older than Dane, with brown hair streaked with gray and a beard to match. His nose was curved and lengthy, almost like a birds.

"No time for breakfast?" The Innkeeper asked, and Dane slowed his pace. He wouldn't be able to travel if he was starved, and the prospect of food made his stomach twinge with a weakening hollowness. It was the pungent scent of fresh baked bread that truly caused him to gravitate to the counter where the Innkeeper was.

"Sweet rolls?" Dane asked, mesmerized by the drifting whiffs of food.

"Sweet, sourdough or rye, whatever you like." The Innkeeper smiled encouragingly and Dane fished into his pocket for a handful of coins. He stayed long enough to down a cup of coffee and two sweet rolls drizzled with cinnamon. Dane took two more with him as he headed out to the stable to saddle Shadowmere. The horse tossed its head in greeting to his master and Dane gave the familiar black and white neck a comforting pat.

"No time to waste, Shade," he murmured as he led the horse from the stall. He swung astride with a yawn and nudged Shadowmere forward into a trot. Once they cleared the small settlement and the cobbled streets Dane sent Shadowmere into a swift lope.

Once more his surroundings passed Dane in a swirl of twisted scenery.

* * *

Halt left the castle of Araluen only a day and a half after Dane made his escape. The route he took was similar to Dane's, and he followed in the thief's trail for the first day. The trail that Dane had left was easy enough to follow, and the night of his escape Halt had spent mapping the pathway. Now as he rode Abelard past hilly undergrowth and the sprawling plains of Uthal he tried to guess where Dane could be heading.

What awaited the thief in the Southern most part of the fief? Halt wondered, if that indeed was where Dane intended to go. So far Halt had found it to be likely the thief had been heading distinctively South for a reason, his path never wavering. Halt hadn't yet decided if it was some ruse of Dane's or not yet. Halt had stopped at several small towns and simple settlements along the way, asking about an auburn haired, gray eyed man riding a distinct piebald stallion. So far Halt's search and questions had been resourceful, he estimated that he was only a day or so behind Dane. Somewhere along the way Dane would slip up, and Halt would catch him. He intended to bring the thief back to Araluen, dead or alive.

It was almost midday when Halt reached the town of Wheatstone. It was little more than a village with an old mill and a vast stretch of a wheat field. The stone mill overlooked the sprawling field, giving the little town it's name. The little town was one of the southern most towns of Araluen, and wherever Dane was heading couldn't be long off now. Wheatstone only had one Inn, making it a simple affair for Halt to inquire about Dane. The Innkeeper had seen the thief, that was for sure. The recognition that dawned on the elder man's face confirmed that.

"Stayed a night here last night, quite a young fellow, with an air of urgency about him too." The Innkeeper chuckled heartily, "I got the fellow to stay for a quick breakfast anyways. No one can resist a sweet roll."

Halt hid his impatience, "When was he last here?"

The Innkeeper frowned and tugged at his dark beard in thought, "Just about mid morning, I'd say."

"Did he say where he was heading to?"

"Nope, didn't have much to say at all," the portly man looked past Halt at a stable hand that had slipped into the Inn for midday meal. "Thomas ought to know where the young fellow got to."

Thomas, the young and stubborn stable hand took a bit more coaxing before he would tell Halt any of Dane's whereabouts. Only after Halt had bought the youth a bite to eat and something hot to drink he consent to tell Halt a word about Dane's whereabouts.

"He left mid morning in a bit of a hurry, wouldn't let me saddle his mount but gave me a coin for the offer anyways. He headed off to the South, towards the cliffs."

Halt watched the stable hand with disguised intent. "Is there anywhere he might be heading along those cliffs?"

The stable hand shook his head and stayed silent for the longest of moments. "There's an old deserted watchtower up in the cliffs, but that's about it. As far as any sane man is concerned there's nothing up there worth the hike."

Halt cocked an eyebrow, "What kind of hike are you speaking of?"

Thomas rubbed his stubble specked chin, "There's a patch of rocky forest that flanks the watchtower. It's the perfect place for someone to hide out at, a place as desolate as that. Not exactly a good place for a picnic, unless you like dining with bandits."

* * *

It took Halt the rest of the day to reach the boulder strewn clearing that marked the beginning of the rock littered forest. It was little more than a thin band of green and gray as he rode towards it, and in the distance he could see the distinct blue washed stone of the watchtower. It was at least a days ride away, at the most, but Halt rode on as he picked up the fresh marks of hoof prints in the Earth.

Dane wasn't far off. But neither was Marwick.

* * *

Dane's plan was put into action that very day as night began to settle over the land. From the forests rocky edge he could see the tower, a tall mass of dark blue stone that rose into the sky, blending into the falling light neatly. Overhead clouds were gathering, smothering out the stars and the moon that glittered in the abyss of the dark night. As the last bit of light was blotted out Dane nudged his mount forward, a stolen sword scabbard hanging from his waist.

At a closer distance to the tower Dane could see that it was much larger than he had thought. It was wide and thick, covering a hefty distance of twisted and rubble strewn earth. A small line of battlements had been constructed around the tower itself, and along the ten foot high ramparts walked guards, most of which had drawn crossbows and aimed them at Dane.

As he neared the tower he swung down from the saddle, a hand moving to touch the sword hilt at his hip for confidence. He called a greeting to the guards, and with the hood back on his shoulders they recognized him easily. From the startled and confused looks on their faces he guessed word must have gotten to them that the King's killer had been dealt with, and they probably assumed that Dane was six feet under.

"What do you want?" The captain of the guard called to the thief. Dane met the eyes of the guard, a man in his late thirties with a trim beard and a fierce gaze.

* * *

"Is this all you'll need?"

Peronel looked up from straightening her borrowed tunic. She smiled with gratitude at Martha, the Captain of the Guard's beloved wife. Peronel had so much to thank Martha for, especially now.

The young woman stood across from an elderly woman in a large room that was Martha's bedchamber. With light wood walls and a stone floor the room was a bit dowdy, lit by a small crackling hearth on one side of the room. A broad bed and a chest stood at the other side of the room behind Martha.

"Yes, thank you, so much, Martha, I owe you my life."

"None sense, girl," Martha told her. The older woman was tall and slim, with a bird like elegance. She had a beak like nose to match, a pointed chin, and bright blue eyes. Her hair was fading to a gray streaked blonde, but her kindness was unperturbed with age. Her husband's lord and his avaricious cravings had made Martha a defiant woman indeed. For years she'd defied the Lord Marwick with outright hatred and disgust, and now she furthered her audacity by helping the young, and still very much alive Peronel.

The maidenly woman stood before Martha in the distinct attire of a Lordly messenger, from the brilliant blue tunic down to the soft leather boots. Martha had even found an old shattered sword that belonged to her husband that was worthy of decorative use. Standing back to admire her handy work, Martha had to admit, she'd done well with this one.

Peronel was of average womanly height, short for a man and a bit weedy, too. Though some young men were that way, and Peronel would pass for one of these uncommonly thin messengers without a second thought. With her chest bound tightly and her tunic a bit loose, Peronel squared her shoulders. She put a hand to the hilt of her broken sword, the recently polished pommel gleaming and rust free for the occasion.

"Do I look convincing?"

Martha smiled, and her eyes crinkled at the edges and reminded Peronel that Martha could be a humorous woman at times. It accented her friendly and warm persona that made her such a dear friend to Peronel even for the short time they'd been acquainted.

"You'll do just fine deary, the guards won't think twice about you once we tie up your hair and get a cloak on you."

Peronel nodded, feeling a bit queasy about what they we're doing. If they were caught there was no telling would happen to both of them. Lord Marwick was known for being rash and impulsive, and he would be angry for their defiance. What he might do in his rage would surely spell the end for Peronel.

With Martha's help Peronel was able to bundle back her mess of blonde hair and tuck it deep into a cowl of an ashen gray cloak that Martha provided. The final touch was a worn satchel of a common messenger, and underneath the rolls of thick parchment was a small bundle of provisions and a cask of drinking water.

"Well, that's it deary." Martha said, a bit sorrowfully. Peronel embraced her friend tightly, promising herself that she was going to keep Martha in her prayers for a while yet.

"I really wish you'd come with me, it would make running away a little easier to bear with someone else," Peronel told her friend.

Martha nodded and felt a pang of sympathy for the young maid. "You'll be fine, deary. They won't know you're gone until your too far for them to go after. You'll get away from here, even if I won't."

Peronel sighed, she knew that Martha would never leave without her husband. The elderly woman swore that she loved him with all her heart, no matter who he served or what he did.

And Peronel of all people knew what it was like to love someone so imperfect, for Dane was no better in what he did. How wrong it was to love someone who went against everything she had ever been taught. It was simply wrong for her to feel this way for someone who walked the thievish ways of a rogue.

But then why did her heart ache with such a dire agony at his loss?

* * *

**Well that's it for this Chapter. Shouldn't be long for the next one. I know I had some grammar and spelling mistakes in this chapter, and I'll probably go back and revise this when I have the time. **

**I'm excited that we finally get to meet the famed Peronel, and I'm pretty frantic about the next installment. **

**Please read and review! It's greatly appreciated!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok, this is it! Chapter #7! Please enjoy this one. I have to say that this has to be one of my favorite chapter's that I have ever written.**

**Thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming! I like to be reminded of who I'm writing this for!**

**Please read and review! **

* * *

Dane walked through the iron gates that were held open for him, leading his horse behind him. The arch passed overhead, and above it walked soldiers and guards clad in mostly leather armor, only a few wore chain mail. They gave him curious and hostile glares, most of which Dane ignored. His eyes were fixated on the steps ahead that would lead him into the Watchtower to face Marwick and end things with him once and for all.

As if in confirmation of Dane's intentions, the moon burned bright and full in the night sky, cloaking the world in a silvery sheen of light. It soothed Dane in a way he couldn't exactly explain. He stopped to glance up at the moon one last time before he tossed the reins of his horse to a guard who waited by the castle entrance. His escort, two leather clad men with brass helms and shorts belted at their waists, led Dane into the Watchtower's main room. They'd already stripped him of his sword belt and dagger, but the knives that Dane had tucked into his boot and up his sleeves had yet to have been found.

Usually Watchtower's didn't have much to them, excepting a few rooms for guardsmen and a few more for the commander and maybe an infirmary. From the arched entryway that led into a wide circular room with tiled granite flooring and the vivid lighting Dane could guess someone had gone to great lengths for the remodeling of Murdock's tower.

He was led straight to down the hall to a slightly raised slab of granite with a chair mounted in the center. Dane knew without so much as a second thought that the man seated on the mock throne was Marwick. He could tell by the way the man carried himself as he sat there with his shoulders slumped in an overly cocky way, his chin resting on his hand.

A servant spoke rapidly to him in a soft voice, a fearful expression on his face. Marwick waved him off as his eyes came to rest on Dane. The man had a rather craggy face, with a wide and square jaw and penetrating dark eyes. He was broad shouldered and on the muscular side, which would do Dane no good when it came down to it. The last time that Dane had seen this man the thief been tied to a chair, blood dripping from a cut above one eye. All Murdock's tower seemed to hold for Dane was resentment. As far as he knew it was the resting place of his beloved, and the man he'd lost her to was sitting before him with an arrogant gleam in his eyes.

The servant gave Dane a pitying expression before hurrying off to attend to some other matters. He disappeared into one of the lowly arched doorways set into the circular room's cobalt walls.

"Well if it isn't the King's Killer, back from the dead," Marwick murmured cheerfully. The guards that led Dane stopped and stood on either side of him casually. They kept their eyes trained at straight ahead at the wall, but Dane knew that if he made one wrong move the burly men would easily make a meal of him with comfortable ease.

"Back from prison to be accurate," Dane drawled in a falsely amused tone.

"You're late, and missing Sole." Marwick murmured bluntly.

Dane shrugged, "I had many delays, one of them being Sole's untimely murder."

Marwick's eyebrows rose with curiosity. "Murdered by who, might I ask?"

Dane smiled thinly, "A few of the King's Ranger's."

"A few of them?"

Dane raised his chin thoughtfully, "We had a bit of an… Incident, at the King's funeral." The thieves eyes flashed, "Which brings us to the manner of payment for my job…" Dane slipped one knife clear of its wrist-sheath, and the knife slipped easily into his palm. Before the guards beside him could react he had the knife buried in one's side and another knife naked in his free hand. He slammed the hilt of this one into the second one's temple as the man drew his sword and attempted to rush Dane. In such close quarters the man had no room to try and swing a sword, and Dane dealt with the man quickly, snaking the sword from his unconscious hands as he finished. He left his dagger in the first guard's lifeless form and turned his attention to Marwick.

The man had risen from his chair and reached for his sword that was belted to his waist. Dane had expected him to call on more guards, but Marwick only chuckled and strode forward as he drew his own blade.

"I believe I'll enjoy your death," Marwick murmured, a menacing twinkle in his eyes as he faced Dane squarely. Peronel's Killer against the King's Killer. Somehow the odds seemed so even in Dane's eyes.

The anger that Dane had harbored for the man before him turned to ice in his veins. The horrible dread and sadness that had stabbed through Dane when he'd realized that he'd lost the only person who'd ever really loved him. Who'd ever really shared that feeling of freedom that he felt every time he slunk down an alley under a full moon. Or slipped his hand into a merchant's pocket. Or ran for all he was worth from the King's Watch.

Peronel had understood. It was why she had never stopped him. Sometimes wrong is just right, she'd told him. He took those words in his mind, hearing them in her sweet voice, seeing her wide smile and kind eyes. Dane pushed it all away to the deepest, darkest corner of his mind.

And now it was just Marwick, Dane, and the metallic tinge of blood in the air.

Halt moved silently through the undergrowth around the backside of Murdock's tower. His long bow was slung over one shoulder as he took stock of the situation. The rear of Murdock's tower was on higher ground, and Halt had circled around and up through the scrubby trees and cover to get past the sentries. Then he'd retraced his steps in a steep downwards arc, ending up in the shadow of the Watchtower's rear.

No guards or sentries were posted to watch this part of the Tower, and Halt could make an educated guess as to why. Looking back up to the higher ground of the plateau that lie farther South he found a desolate and uninhabited land as far as the eye could see. Not much threat from a deserted place like that, so why waste the sentries?

It was Halt's best way to get in, he surmised. He was sure that was where Dane was, he'd seen the thief slip through the gates some time ago, and now he planned to go after the thief. He didn't intend to drag Dane kicking and screaming from the Watchtower, he just wished to see who Dane's hiring man happened to be.

After all, if Dane's confession to Crowley had been truthful, someone else wanted the Kingdom. It would pay to know who had set their sight on the throne.

And so Halt gazed up at the pockmarked stone above him, sizing up the wall before him. His former apprentice would make easy work of the short climb up the battlements surrounding the actual tower. The worn stone only reached up to a height of fifteen feet, and it was even shorter on the Southern side. Topping out at what must have been roughly ten or twelve feet.

Halt stepped forward and smoothed his hands over the stone, his hands slid easily into the small cracks and crevices in the silver struck mortar. Overhead the moon soared, illuminating the night in brilliance.

Clinging to the wall with his cloak wreathed around him, Halt looked like little more than a flitting shadow in the night.

Peronel slipped quietly through the main corridor or Murdock's tower. The narrow hallway twisted its way up and down the tower with torches mounted in brass brackets lighting the way up winding stairs and long, empty halls. Archways branched off to the more important parts of the tower, while lesser rooms were stout wooden doors that were closed to the rare wanderers of the hall. Not many servants or guards moved throughout this part of the tower to Peronel's relief, and the chance of being discovered was slim at the moment.

Along she slunk, staying as quiet as possible while listening just as closely for the sound of footfalls against tile. Instead a mild pitched drawl that Peronel would recognize anywhere carried cleanly to Peronel from an archway up ahead.

"Back from prison to be accurate."

The realization reached her slowly. _Dane. _The name rang in her mind and rattled in her skull. _Dane!_

She ran with his voice, his name, his face, ricocheting through her mind in a blur of thought. Peronel dashed through the archway and froze in her tracks, disbelief searing through every sane part of her body. She didn't even notice Marwick.

"I believe I'll enjoy your death."

Dane stood in the center of the room, a long bladed sword in his right hand. It glinted in the flickering firelight, casting a glare of light throughout the room. He was unchanged to Peronel's eyes. His hair was still lank with a touch of fiery color to it. The very way he stood, draped on the very air that surrounded him, was so strikingly familiar to Peronel.

"Dane…"

The whisper, just a brush of breath that passed her lips, caught Dane's attention instantly. He turned to her, a hostile look in his eyes. A pin could have been heard hitting the floor in that silence. Even in her disguise Dane could recognize her, his keen gaze finding the strands of vibrant hair she'd tucked under her hood. Every detail of Peronel's fair face, her straight nose, delicate brows, coffee colored eyes. It was all there before Dane.

What gave him away was his eyes. Ghostly grey they were, with that promise of a storm. Hostility faded to astonishment. Disbelief. Relief. Each shift of emotion was bright in his eyes. He looked straight through her it seemed, and she stood transfixed, not even aware of the tears sliding down her face.

Dane's first step towards her was his last.

"Pero-"

And then suddenly…

Weight. Weight against his side. Against his chest. The world. Tumbling. Swirling. Twisting. Tile. Hard, coarse tile. Pain. Blinding flashes of it lashing across Dane's shoulder. Sword skittering away across the floor. Out of reach. Marwick, poised above him, sword raised. Wicked, malevolent laughter. Sword sweeping down for Dane's throat.

Screaming.

Thrum.

Hiss.

Smack.

* * *

**So that's it for Chapter #7! I know, it's a cliffy, I'm sorry for that, but I had to make this one a memorable one you know?**

**I know that the last little bit is kind of weird, but it's from Dane's point of view. Try to put yourself in Dane's boots, he's just seen Peronel, the only woman on the face of the Earth that he's every really, truly, cared about, back from the dead. He can't believe it. His mind's moving racing, his body is slowing. Things are getting simply complicated for him.**

******PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! It's greatly appreciated!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, this is Chapter 8. Again, sorry it took so long. I originally had this chapter a little bit longer, but I decided to cut it short and leave the next part for the next chapter. The good news about that is, I'm already halfway through Chapter 9. =P**

**Please read and review, it's appreciated. =)**

* * *

Halt slipped past the guards with practiced ease, sliding through the tower's defenses with the expertise that only a Ranger could possess. He stopped in a shadowed alcove not far from the entrance to the tower and what he suspected was the main hall. Halt knew Dane was somewhere in the tower, the black and white gelding that danced unhappily around in the courtyard was proof enough. A servant was trying unsuccessfully to lead the skittish animal off to what looked to be a meager stable.

Two guards stood watch on either side of the main door, both staring out into the night with looks of stone on their broad faces. Both had the standard build of warriors, broad in the shoulder and narrower at the hips. Leather studded armor covered their upper bodies and they each held a spear shaft in each hand.

Tacky was the word that came to Halt's mind as he observed them. They looked truly full of themselves as they stood there, oblivious to Halt's presence. More like arrogant ornaments than real guards. The Ranger wasn't complaining however, men who held arrogance close were usually less than impressive opponents. Halt was confident he could take them both down in broad sight without much trouble. _Now who's the arrogant one? _he thought coyly.

"It's not arrogance if it's true," he whispered to himself as he drew his flint.

The alcove he'd chosen as his look out was bordered on one side by a wooden structure. It was a dowdy looking place made of rough timber and roofed with the same material of wood. The wood was dry and looked quite promising for what Halt had in mind.

The Ranger had surveyed the area already, and most of the lookouts along the walls had their eyes facing towards the North. The servants and other guards not on duty that moved through the courtyard were a problem however, and Halt needed a distraction before he could make his move towards the hall.

Halt had guessed that the little structure was something of a command post or an armory of the like for the guards. He'd seem a few disappear inside and return with sword belts and spears missing. The simple fact made burning the little place down all the more beneficial for Halt. It would leave some of the guards weaponless if it came down to a fight for escape.

With that in mind Halt knelt and pressed close to the dry wood of the armory shed. He used his saxe knife to shave off curls of the wood for kindling. He struck his flint watched as the sparks caught and flames eagerly began lunging up the wood. He retreated a ways and hid in another niche to wait.

It wasn't long before someone cried out as they spotted the blaze. It was beginning to greedily consume and spread across the roof and side of the shed. By then the guards at the door were among the many servants and men of arms racing to get water on the fire.

Halt sheathed his knives and tucked his flint back into his belt. Arrogantly, he strode to the main doors. He slipped inside just in time to see Dane being mauled to the ground. Halt could only see the back of Dane's attacker as they rose to full height above the thief. A swift kick knocked Dane's sword from his hand and left him defenseless. Incomprehension was clear on Dane's face, and his eyes held heavy traces of shock and maybe even disbelief.

For the first time Halt noticed the figure standing in the archway, watching the scene unfold. Tears slid down the figure's face, and the disguise was shattered as the woman screamed.

"Dane!"

There was no time to think, Halt's bow was up and drawn just as Marwick swung his sword for Dane's throat.

It would have been a killing shot, it _should_ have been one. But Dane's attacker shifted slightly as he put his whole body into the force of his swing, and Halt got a glimpse of the man's face.

The Ranger made the slightest of adjustments as he let the string slid from his grasp. The arrow struck Lord Marwick of Caraway in the upper arm, a painful wound at the most. It might have even left Marwick maimed if it festered, but it was not a killing blow in the least.

From where Dane lay on the floor clutching at his left shoulder with his right hand he'd seen the arrow sprout in Marwick's arm. It was a stroke of luck that Marwick lost his grip on his sword, and Dane wasn't about to let what might be his only chance at retaliation slip away.

"Time to move!" The thief hissed through gritted teeth as he rolled onto his side and staggered to his feet. Dane had to get his sword and get away from Marwick before the man butchered him. He spotted the silver length of steel lying on the polished floor, firelight dancing along the blade.

Just before his hand closed around the leather bound hilt a muffled yelp sounded from the archway. Immediately Dane's eyes flicked to Peronel as someone, presumably a guard by their uniformly attire, grabbed her from behind. Alarms screamed in Dane's mind. He lunged forward to snatch up the sword, new resolve burning in him.

"Guards!" Marwick yelled, and one booted foot slammed down on Dane's sword. Dane tried to wrench it free and was rewarded when Marwick's foot let up. The brief moment of victory was dampened as Dane was kicked heavily in the side.

The air left him in a rush and he crumpled up, gasping for breath. He could still hear Peronel struggling, shouting his name as her captors fought to subdue her. Marwick ripped the arrow from his arm and tossed it aside.

"Get the Ranger!" Marwick yelled as Dane struggled to get back up. Guards were surging by now in in two's and three's, more guards than Dane had thought might reside at one supposedly insignificant tower. So far they didn't seem all too interested in Dane himself, and he snaked a dagger from his boot and half rose to his feet.

Marwick moved forward, his face the picture of rage itself. The sleeve of his right arm was stained with blood but otherwise seemingly fine. He'd already reclaimed his weapon, a long sword with an engraved blade and jeweled hilt. The eloquent weapon gave Marwick a menacing accent. Oh, the guards might not care much for Dane, but Marwick sure did, and that alone was enough to put Dane in over his head.

Dane struck first, taking Marwick by surprise as he surged forward and aimed a slash at Marwick's wrist. The man brought his blade up in defense of himself, and Dane narrowly managed to avoid being cleaved in two by the stroke. Marwick was fast, and Dane had to be faster, for himself and for Peronel.

The little stiletto blade that Dane wielded was his life line, but there was only so much he could do with it against a full fledged swordsman who happened to have a sword. His best chance was to duck and dodge, and he could only keep it up for so long. Dane's shoulder still hurt, and his arm was numbing from the coursing pain. The odds were stacked against him, just like they had been his whole life.

The wiry thief swept forward again before Marwick could raise his weapon, this time going for Marwick's sword hand. He rammed his bad shoulder against Marwick's bleeding arm and brought his other elbow back into the burly man's ribs. It was an awkward thing to do, swinging himself into Marwick's arms, but Dane wasn't complaining. Instead he pressed his back against Marwick's chest and used both hands to try and wrench the blade from the man's hand. Each time Marwick stepped back Dane followed, never giving the knight a chance to reach for his dagger.

Dane gave up the struggle of pulling the sword from Marwick's hands, seeing that he was never going to get the sword through brute strength. Instead he jerked his knife across Marwick's hand in a more hopeful attempt at disarming the knight.

The blade sliced across the soft skin on the underside of Marwick's wrist, splattering droplets of scarlet across the granite tile. The sword, like Dane had hoped, slipped from Marwick's grasp and clattered onto to the floor as well.

Dane spun out of Marwick's grasp quickly, pausing to aim a rather illegal kick at his opponent. He left Marwick crumpling to the floor behind him. The next thing Dane knew his hand closed around the hilt of the fancy sword and he dashed for the guard holding Peronel.

Someone had beat him to it. And they seemed to be on his side of the battle to his surprise.

The guard that held Peronel captive was swiftly being cut down by Halt. The Ranger's bow had been hastily discarded in the sudden skirmish, and now he had his throwing knife in one hand and saxe knife in the other. The guard released Peronel, shoving her away roughly as he aimed a sweeping slash at Halt.

The sloppy downwards chop was easily stopped by Halt's crossed blades, and then Dane was there to disarm the guardsman with a crooked cut to the man's side. As the warrior cried out and fell Dane's cold eyes flicked warily to Halt.

Halt gave Dane a little nod of thanks, his eyes as grim and unreadable as ever. He turned away from Dane to the thief's surprise, not even attempting to engage Dane in combat.

"Dane!"

The thief turned just in time to be half mauled by a hysterical Peronel. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed close to him. Dane loosened his grip on the hilt of the sword and half embraced her in return. He ignored the stinging sensation of pain that lanced through his shoulder at the movement and ever so slightly pulled away from Peronel. He kept his good arm wrapped around her, almost scared to let her go in fear of losing her again.

"Peronel? Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you? Anyone at all? I'm so sorry I-" The words spilled from Dane's mouth in a fierce rush and Peronel reached up to take his face in her soft hands. The effect her touch had on Dane was astounding, and Dane fell silent.

Dane was frozen in place, his gaze riveted on Peronel. The cowl of her cloak was laying across her shoulders, and her blonde hair poured down her back in a waterfall of straight locks. Her usually warm brown eyes were wide with fear and concern. It warmed Dane to know that the emotions shining through her eyes were for him and no one else. The storm in his own eyes subsided, as if Peronel's very presence was enough to waylay the winds that raged there. He hadn't lost her after all.

"Hey…" Dane murmured stupidly. He didn't know what else to say, all the emotions he's wanted to express and the words that had sprung to his lips to do so

simply died in his throat as he looked at her. Dane could pick out a thin little scar across the line of Peronel's jaw along with the foreign remnants of a bruise along the hollow of her neck. Certainly those marks hadn't been there before?

"If the both of you are quite finished…" Halt called from where he fended off a guardsman. The Ranger had taken up a guard of his own of the couple, and he was beginning to grow slightly impatient as more guards poured into the main hall. He slammed the hilt of the saxe knife into one man's temple, dropping him to the floor before he could get in another swing at Halt. The Ranger turned to them, and Dane stepped in front of Peronel defensively.

Halt looked unperturbed by Dane's clear show of distrust. "Don't be silly. If I had wanted to kill you I assure you, you would have been long dead. It would have been less than simple to put a knife in your back while the both of you were mooning over each over."

Dane opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut abruptly. Halt jerked his head at the door. "Right now we have the same intention of getting out of here alive. As far as I'm concerned, I can drag you back to the castle later."

Dane eyed Halt dubiously, but the on surge of guardsmen made his decision a quick one. He might not like the idea of agreeing to anything the Ranger suggested, but there was more at stake than his pride. Dane's left shoulder was no good, and he was fairly sure he'd pulled a muscle or shredded a tendon somewhere.

There was no way he was going to be able to fight very well or for very long in his current condition, and he still had to get Peronel out alive.

"No tricks?" Dane queried cautiously.

"I should be asking you the same thing," Halt told him, "But we don't exactly have time for that, now are you with me or not?"

Dane nodded, seeing the logic in Halt's words. He joined Halt, falling in step beside the Ranger as more guards headed towards them. Dane made sure that Peronel stayed close, telling her to stay behind him and follow along as they tried to forge a path to the door. They kept the curving wall at their backs and moved as swiftly as they could.

Halt and Dane fought side by side, taking out the guards who rushed them with the occasional assistance from another. As much as they would hate to admit it, they fought well together. Dane was there to deflect the rather lethal sword thrusts and cuts aimed at Halt, giving the Ranger a chance to retaliate and finish off the guard.

The only real problem was the odds. It didn't matter how well Halt and Dane fought as one, the guards that poured into the main hall were simply overwhelming against the two men. Dane could see where things were going, and he felt a sinking feeling as he realized that they might never make it out of the tower alive.

He couldn't help but wonder if Peronel's resurrection was going to be cut short. He shoved the thought away viciously as he knocked a glancing sword thrust away from Halt. The guardsman let out a cry of pain as Halt swiftly felled him with his two knives. The effort was proven vain as the fallen soldier was replaced by two more of his comrades.

"We have to run for it, we can't fight them all off!" Dane yelled to Halt as he moved to guard the Ranger's right side. Behind him Peronel was moving swiftly along the wall that flanked the trio, staying close to them but out of their way. She didn't want to leave Dane, and something told her that their time together was limited. Then again, hadn't it always been?

As Peronel watched her beloved do what he'd always been best at, she couldn't help but think back to the days when life had been simpler. All the warm summer evenings spent under a blooming oak on the outskirts of Araluen's capital, and the little walks on dark and secluded streets was suddenly so distant a memory. Those little snatches of time spent with Dane were pieces of paradise to Peronel.

Peronel swallowed hard as the doors of the main hall slammed shut, sounding all too similar to a death bell's tolling. This was it, they were trapped.

Halt and Dane stepped back a little as Marwick and a few of his more knightly looking followers fanned out to corner the trio between them and the wall.

Seeing the improbable odds of the situation Peronel felt a sickening wave of fear rise in her. There was no way out now, and it wasn't as if Marwick was known for his merciful punishments. The three of them could easily be put to death without a second thought.

The sane part of Peronel felt regret for the moment, and she couldn't help but think that this was somehow all her fault. If only she hadn't fallen for a no good thief, a low life murderer who had laid claim to more than his fair share of dark deeds; she just might have lived to grow old with a husband as they watched their children grow up themselves.

And all the memories came back to her again, the warmth of their first kiss and the comfort of being wrapped in Dane's arms, the gentle whisper of his voice, with just the touch of a lower city lilt to it.

Somehow that meant so much more than any life that she could have-might have-had with any other man.

There was nowhere else that Peronel would rather be than beside Dane, even when they were facing the last moments of their lives. She moved forward to wrap her hand around his, feeling his rough and callused fingers twin around hers in return.

For what Peronel thought might be the last time, he turned his ghostly grey eyes on her. The transfixing sight of the storming sadness that she saw there was enough to make her heart clench painfully, but for some odd reason, Dane smiled at her. To his surprise, his voice didn't come out quite as shattered as the rest of him felt.

"Just for the record, I love you. I'm sorry."

Marwick's orders rang throughout the hall, and the line of guards moved forward, their gleaming sword points leading the way.

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**Please read and review, it's appreciated. =)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9, YAY! Thanks for the reviews guys, keep them coming please. I like to know if people are still interested in this or not. =)**

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Halt stirred in the dark, trying to remember what had happened. Pain lanced and spider webbed through his left shoulder, an unpleasant greeting of reality. He rubbed at his shoulder, feeling for the damp patch of blood that would accompany a wound. He found none, but winced as another little twinge of agony wriggled up his arm.

"It's dislocated," Dane said from where he sat in the dank cell. "You were absolutely mauled by the guards."

Halt sat up, careful not to bump his shoulder on anything stone like. He felt a brief bout of dizziness overcome him, and he took a moment to let it pass. When it did he looked towards Dane, hardly able to distinguish the thief from the shadows of their cell.

Around them three solid stone walls were built, no doubt part of the foundation of Murdock's Tower. There wasn't a window, and the air was stale and unpleasant, reminding Halt oddly of a tomb. The flickering firelight of the torchlight placed outside the cell was dim, creating a realm of shadows.

"I think you're unhurt otherwise," Dane murmured quietly. He was leaning against the wall parallel to Halt, and they faced each other with even looks of distrust. Halt thought back, trying to recall the events of the evening a bit more clearly. He could remember being cornered by Marwick's men, and then their was a struggle when he ordered them to be taken damaged but alive. They'd certainly done that Halt noted sourly as he massaged his aching shoulder. The Ranger recalled Dane being slammed a bit brutally against one wall and taking a lethal strike of a flat sided sword to the temple.

"What about you?"

"I'm fine."

The cautious care the two were taking was beginning to seem a bit ridiculous to Dane. Just about everything seemed halfway ludicrous to him now. Like Halt and Dane, Peronel had been taken captive once more, but she hadn't been imprisoned in the cellar like them. As far as Dane could tell Marwick clearly had something else in mind for her, and that alone was enough to worry him out of his mind. He was sure he was losing his sanity, and the words that flowed from his mouth seemingly of their own accord were a stark reminder.

"I'm not sure exactly how to say this right, but thank you, for not gutting me like a fish earlier, I hadn't expected that from a Ranger."

Halt leaned back against the wall behind him, trying to find a comfortable position that was easy on his left side.

"I owe you thanks as well," Halt began, "I may never have found out about this conspiracy if you hadn't led me right into the thick of it."

For a moment Dane thought he was hearing things, but he quickly scratched that as a possibility. The Ranger's eyes held a bit of amusement to them as far as he could tell. It was faint, but it was there.

"Now I'm really confused."

Halt grunted, "That's something I hadn't quite expected out of you. Your Marwick is actually Lord Marwick of Caraway Fief. It's not surprising you didn't know the nobleman, just intriguing that you didn't have any idea that you played a more than vital role in his plan."

Dane ducked his head, now he understood. "So he's after the throne?"

"I'd like to think so," Halt pointed out, "but I can't say I have enough proof to convict him completely."

"But he tried to have you killed, that was clear enough."

Halt shrugged, "He did, but what proof do we have of that if we never leave this tower?"

Dane felt a little stab of curiosity, "You just said 'we'."

"I did, after all, we are in the same boat at the moment."

Interested, Dane nodded for Halt to go one. "We are, but that doesn't mean that we're on the same side."

"We're not exactly on what I'd call opposing sides at the moment. The way I see it, we both need to get out of here before they decide they don't need us anymore."

Dane was shaking his head already, "I don't think that 'we' can do anything more than wait right now."

Halt took Dane's words as a clear denial of a possible alliance between the two. As absurd as the idea of a Ranger and the King's Killer working together was, it might have been promising. Halt disliked the idea with a passion, but what else could they do? Marwick could be planning so much more for the Kingdom, and time and time again Dane had showed how far he was willing to go to keep his Peronel safe. Maybe Halt's idea of using Dane was a wrongly founded one, but wouldn't it do good for the both of them?

Halt put his thoughts aside as footsteps rang out on the cracked stone floor of the makeshift dungeon. A blazing torch led the way of Marwick and another knight. The knight was a burly man, with the typical build of one in his line of work. He looked a little younger than Marwick himself, with similar features that marked them distinctly as brothers. The arrogance was clear in his eyes, which were just a shade lighter than Marwick's own.

"These are the two?" The knight asked, stopping outside the cell to peer in at the occupants. He eyed them critically for a moment, then shook his head ever so slightly.

"A thief and a Ranger sharing the same cell, I truly have missed something astonishing in my absence."

Marwick stood beside his brother, smiling faintly in the firelight. The Baron of Caraway looked triumphant, to a degree. Halt could guess that if the Lord of Caraway had come to see them it was because he had unfinished business for Halt and Dane. Anything that Marwick might have in store for the two was more than likely unpleasant.

"Well, what shall we do with them then, brother?" the younger brother asked, eyeing them like a lion inspecting a mouse.

Marwick shrugged, "Which form of knightly torture would be most fitting, Kern?"

The brother, who Halt now assumed was Kern, the second oldest brother of the Baron of Caraway, stood nonchalantly. For a moment it seemed as if he drifted away into thought, the gruesome ways of death flickering before his very eyes.

"We could always flog the thief until he screams of course."

Dane's eyes flicked coldly to Kern's, "I'd never give you the satisfaction."

Kern's gaze danced with a malicious spark, "And what if we lashed the girl instead? From what I've heard that would be more than enough to set both you and her screaming."

Dane's face simply fell into a deeper shadow, a dark cloud covering his face. His eyes, ghostly grey and glowing palely in the shadows that cloaked him burned with something worse than hate. Even with the fiery emotion freezing in Dane's eyes, he still seemed oddly calm. It only added to the unsettling effect of his murderous gaze.

"Touch her and I swear to God I'll spill your blood across four walls and the ceiling."

Dane's sharp words only seemed to please Kern, and again the Knight smiled darkly.

"I'd definitely like to see you try, but seeing that you're locked inside a cell with no means of escape, I highly doubt you'll get that chance."

A cold little trickle of amusement escaped Dane's lips. "Don't you have any idea who I am?"

Halt watched the exchange with subdued interest, trying to gauge whether or not Dane's sanity was still stable. The wicked tone of voice sounded quite mad, but the ice in his eyes was steady.

Without waiting for Kern's reply Dane went on, "I'm many people. I'm Skart, the city street thief and noble cutthroat. I'm Dane, the brother who pales in comparison to Tawny and the man who fell in love with the most beautiful seamstress that ever lived."

A little shift of movement caused Dane's eyes to flash and dance wickedly in the dim light.

"And I'm the King's Killer, the thief who broke into the King's own Castle and murdered the beloved monarch during dinner. The same Killer who broke out of the Castle's dungeon and traveled half way across the continent just to watch you take your last breath to avenge Peronel. But she's been alive all this time, and she still is."

Kern looked like a bear caught in a trap, with his gaze locked unmoving on Dane. Halt thought he felt the temperature drop, for suddenly it was a lot colder. It had to be the way Dane spoke, his voice a barely audible whisper. Maybe it was his ghostly grey eyes themselves, or possibly even the look in them. Either way, Dane set Kern on edge.

"Now do you honestly thin I'm going to let a few rusted iron bars keep me from killing you?"

Kern scoffed at him, but it was half hearted. "You're bluffing. The next time you leave this cell it'll be for your death."

Dane smiled coldly, "That might be so, but I'll be sure to take you with me to hell if it's the last thing I do."

Kern didn't say anymore, only gave Dane a narrow eyed look of anger before her turned on his heel and walked away, his boot heels ringing loudly on the stone. Marwick followed after him, leaving Halt and Dane alone in their cell once more.

Dane ducked his head and sighed once he was sure they were gone. His eyes lost their cold malevolence when he looked at Halt, and he seemed suddenly almost ashamed.

"Well, I don't suppose you have any idea as to what we should do now, do you?"

Halt gave Dane a measuring look, "You just said 'we'."

Dane sighed again, "I did. Listen, I'm starting to feel a bit unsteady, but I can't give up this fight, not after what I just said to them. They'll kill her for my mistake, and I can't let that happen," Dane's words died off into silence and he looked away before he finished. "And well, I don't think that I can get out of here alive on my own."

Much to Dane's surprise Halt held out a hand to him, "You have my word that until Marwick and Kern are dead and we're free of this place, we're partners."

Dane clasped Halt's hand, "And you have my word, for whatever it's worth, that I won't attempt to run from you until Peronel's safe and Marwick and Kern are dead."

"Then it's settled," Halt said as they shook hands. His words held a note of finality than Dane excepted and even welcomed. He remembered a time when he and Crowley had worked together. That time seemed so far away from where he was now. He promised himself idly that this partnership would not end with that kind of betrayal, as absurd an idea as it was. There wasn't a way that the alliance would end happily, or at least not one that Dane could think of.

_The King's Killer and a Ranger working together, how sick is that? _Dane wondered to himself.

Sick indeed, but who's to say that it wasn't meant to be brilliant as well?

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**Chapter 9... So what d'you think of it? Still interested?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10! Thanks for the reviews, favorites and alerts. I'm also sorry I'm such a sluggish updater. But... I don't have school the next two weeks... So write and write I shall. =)**

**R&R**

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Unlike Halt and Dane, Peronel was never led down into the depths of the dungeon to be locked in a cell. None the less, she found herself imprisoned in a different kind of chamber. In all reality, that's exactly what it was. The circular walls were wide spread and tinted with an odd bluish tinge. The floor underfoot was similar, though quite duller in color. Around the middle sized room were an assortment of furniture that Peronel had hardly taken time to notice. She'd only gone to perch on the edge of the bed across from the hearth, finding that she couldn't quite stand any longer.

The round table that stood before the hearth was lit by a flickering little candle, and Peronel stared at it for a long time. Her thoughts swirled but her body was still. So much had happened so fast, and now Peronel was left to reflect on the night.

"They'll kill him."

She spoke the words aloud, as if hearing them would take the pain away. Tears slipped down Peronel's face, dripping from her face and into her lap. If only such childish things worked. A cold brush of air blew in from a window that Peronel guessed must be behind her, and she drew her booted feet up onto the bed to wrap her arms around her knees. More tears fell, and Peronel let them. All along she'd thought him dead, and instead he'd been doing who knows what just to get to her killer.

Of course, the street smart Dane had never suspected or even considered that Peronel might be alive, and that's where the biggest fault to his plan lay. Perhaps if he had known, Peronel would have her arms wrapped around his waist as he nudged Shadowmere into a trot. They could be riding away from here and leaving all the bad memories behind them.

That wasn't the case, and Peronel realized that it never would be. When Dane hadn't come back with Sole before the deadline Peronel thought she'd be dead for sure. Only the sharp words of argument that Martha summoned forward in Peronel's defense had saved her life, and for that Peronel was ever grateful. She wasn't to be killed or freed, but kept on to prove her worth. Peronel was told that if she could prove herself useful of something that would benefit Marwick, she'd be kept around.

Initially Marwick had taken a romantic interest to Peronel, and he offered to take her as his bride, much to Peronel's disgust. He'd told her that having the King's Killer's lover as his wife would be something like having a trophy. Peronel's harsh refusal to his proposal had made life harder than it needed to be, and for the second time Martha took pity on Peronel and offered her aid.

Martha had seen to it that Peronel was overlooked until she could get together a way to help Peronel flee the Tower without Marwick knowing of it. Then Dane and the Ranger had showed up, and everything had come crashing down.

_You've got to pick up the pieces now, _Peronel thought to herself. The thought echoed in Peronel's mind for a long moment, and she found herself wiping the tears from her eyes and rising from the bed.

Not only had Dane gone come back to kill Marwick in her name, but he'd killed the Kingdom's sovereign for her. Peronel walked to the door and knocked, hoping the guard on the other side would at least consider her request.

It was only fair that Peronel made every effort she could for Dane. She could never kill a King in his name, that much she knew she would never have the courage or the prowess needed to succeed.

No, Peronel could never kill a King for Dane, but maybe she didn't have to. All Peronel needed to do was convince Marwick to spare Dane's life for a little longer. Perhaps Peronel and Dane could bargain for their freedom, but what did they have to offer?

For the first time Peronel noticed the mirror that stood beside the door. The lozenge shaped glass was tall and narrow, wrapped carefully by an elegant golden frame.

Looking into the glass Peronel saw herself reflected there, and with a slow revelation she realized just what she would bargain with.

* * *

"And you're sure about this?" Dane asked for what had to be the third time. Again¾for the third time—Halt nodded.

"I'm almost positive that this will work."

Dane still didn't think that all the reassurance in the world would make him comfortable with Halt's plan. The Ranger was clever, Dane would give him that, but the idea seemed to be filled with quite a bit of speculation on their part.

"And what if they don't bring us any food at all?"

Halt shrugged, "Then we sit here until one of us decides to eat the other."

Much like Halt's suggested plan of action, Dane didn't find the alternative very satisfying.

Halt's improvised plan was sketchy and yet plausible. The Ranger had a thin blade tucked into the sole of his boot, and while it wasn't very lethal it could serve other purposes. The first and foremost that they thought of was for picking the iron grates rusted lock. Dane was adept at lock picking, but when it came down to it the tool he had to work with it was simply not tailored well enough to the shape of the lock.

Dane's initial inspection of the lock had still yielded something that Halt believed they could put to use. The lock was old and quite rusted, and Dane had mentioned that all it would take was one lazy flick of a thinner bit of metal, or even so much as a sliver of wood, and the lock would click open. That's when Dane felt Halt's gaze settle on him, an idea brimming in his dark eyes.

"You said it yourself, you can pick this lock with a piece of wood. If there isn't something wooden on the tray they bring us food on, there'll be something that'll work just as well."

Dane shook his head, "You don't know that. You don't know if they'll bring us food at all, let alone if it'll be on a tray or just a hunk of old bread."

"Do you have a better idea?"

Dane opened his mouth to reply, but he closed it again and thought for a moment. "We could do what I did to get out of the King's dungeon," Dane offered cautiously.

"And what was that?"

"I threw a rock across to the cell opposite me, and when Brutus turned to see what it was that was clattering around in the empty space, I grabbed him through the bars and put a knife to his throat."

Halt considered for another long moment before he shook his head. "Too much commotion. We should try and get out of here as quietly as possible."

Dane conceded the point, and felt the need to question the surety of Halt's plan once more. This time Dane bit his tongue, deciding that Halt was right. It was best to try and get out of the Tower without drawing too much attention to themselves. How Halt planned to sneak through the Tower among all the guards and servants to find out where Peronel was being kept was a puzzlement to Dane. And they could only worry about that if they ever got out of the cellar in the first place.

Shaking his head Dane leaned his head back against the wall behind him and forced himself to think everything through. He planned it all out in his head, calculating all the things that could go wrong and pairing them with all the things he could do to get around them.

* * *

Marwick leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoroughly scrutinizing the woman in front of him. His dark eyes were guarded, and not a bit of the pleasure he felt at Peronel's offer showed in their twisted depths. He'd gotten word from the guard at her door that she wished to propose a proposition. Marwick had been at first reluctant to hear her out, but he'd agreed none the less. He'd never thought she'd offer him something that would claim his interest.

"I can see the sense in such an agreement on one hand," he said slowly, "and yet on the other it would be something close to suicide to let Dane go."

Peronel felt her last chance at saving Dane slipping away, she knew that Marwick spoke the truth. If Dane ever got another chance to rescue Peronel he wouldn't make the same mistakes that had got him thrown in a dismal cell beneath the earth. Next time he wouldn't leave any survivors, and this is what Peronel believed Marwick feared most.

"You never had any intentions to let him live after he did your dirty work, and that hasn't changed. You want him killed, at least spare his life in return for my kindness."

Marwick's eyebrows rose at Peronel's words. "Your kindness? Here you come, offering yourself to me like some low born whore. My consideration of your absurd proposition is the real kindness."

Peronel only tilted her head slightly to side, letting her blonde hair fall to frame her face a bit more elegantly. Marwick stared for a moment, considering Peronel once more. It was easy enough to see that she was beautiful, and even though she was low born she could be forged into a Queen, and further more a puppet on the throne.

"You won't be my bride.," he said finally after a long moment of thought.

Peronel felt her stomach drop dreadfully, and all the hope and resolve she'd harbored seemed to seep away like the warmth of a dying flame.

"No, you'll be my brother's bride," Marwick decided with a note of finality.

Peronel knew it meant that Dane wouldn't die that night or the next. But it also meant she would be placed at the mercy of a true tyrant.

* * *

Halt was well into the process of shaving down a good sized piece of wood into a mere bit when the sound of boot heels against the stone floor rang out again. The Ranger's gaze met Dane's for the briefest of moments before both the knife and the wood disappeared from sight. Just as Halt had suspected, they were brought a small tray of food, with barely enough morsels to fill one man's stomach, let alone two. While the tray was a rusty bit of aged silver, the bowl that held the grayish gruel was in fact very much made of wood. It wasn't ideal, but Halt could work with it none the less.

A torch illuminated the walkway, and for the second time Marwick stood looking down at the two cloaked figures. For their part Halt and Dane looked back, their looks of scrutinizing interest mirroring that of the other man.

Marwick nodded a guard forward, "Let the girl have a few moments with them. Don't open the cell again until the other guards arrive."

With that the guard shuffled forward and opened the gate, jerking his head at another figure in the hallway. At first sight Halt had thought it to be another guard, but when the figure slipped into the cell it was Peronel, clad as she had been upon their first meeting.

Dane rose immediately as Marwick's footsteps began to retreat into the darkness. Before he'd made it half a step towards Peronel she'd already closed the distance between them.

Halt did his best to ignore the soft words the two traded between one another, deciding he'd rather not know what the two had to say to one another. Still, it was very hard to ignore Peronel when her words turned to sobs.

"I'm sorry, Dane. I'm so sorry."

Dane hushed her and pulled her close. "You're not hurt are you?"

Peronel buried her face against his shoulder and shook her head, "No. They told me I could have a minute to tell you. And now I'm scared to."

"Don't be, I'm here."

Peronel pressed closer to Dane's shoulder, finding it so much warmer than her crumbling heart. "I think it's ironic. We stood in this same spot when you told me you were going to kill the King."

"I know," Dane said. He thought back to the stormy night he and Sole had set out for Araluen's capital. The deal that Marwick had proposed to Dane had left next to no room for mishaps. Only when the King was in his coffin and Sole at Marwick's side again would Peronel be let free. Of course, things had not turned out at all as Marwick had planned, but Dane didn't think that Marwick much cared for what happened to Sole. As long as the King was dead Dane was sure that Marwick had no reason to care about anything else at all, including what happened to his hired killer. Dane didn't think it would've mattered if he'd come back and asked Marwick to give him Peronel. He still would've ended up in the same cell.

"Marwick and his brother are leaving," Peronel murmured. "And I'm going with them." She felt Dane's arms stiffen around her.

Dane's voice was a bit higher pitched than he'd intended when he finally found the words. "I won't them take you away."

"I knew you'd say that," Peronel told him, "and I know that if you should try to keep me here they'll find it better to do away with you altogether."

The thief opened his mouth to promise her he would wouldn't let that happen, but Peronel smiled sadly up at him and spoke before he could. "No, not this time. I'm going to be the one to stop that from happening. I'm going with them to be a bride, in exchange for your life."

"No," Dane said, breathless. He was shaking his head, "I won't let them make you leave."

"I never said they were making me," Peronel said quietly. She could see in Dane's eyes how much her words hurt him. The immediate regret she felt at knowing she caused the anguish in the grey depths of his gaze was enough to make her heart clench in its own painful way.

"You don't have to do this," Dane told her.

Peronel shook her head at him slightly, "I think I have to. Waiting here will do neither of us any good. I don't think Marwick will leave much of a guard to keep you here, and even if he does, I'm sure you'll get away from them."

Dane tried to keep calm, and much of it was reflected on his face. Inside he was in turmoil. He'd never thought Peronel would go so far to keep him alive, if only for a while longer, and through marriage of all things. She hadn't even wanted to consider marriage between herself and Dane, for fear it would bring about children in a time when money was too scarce for her. It wasn't as if Dane made much either, and Peronel had refused to accept a single copper from him unless it was dutifully earned.

"I'll come after you," he told her. "I swear I will."

"No, don't. Do anything except that." Peronel found herself pleading with him. "You shouldn't put yourself at anymore risk. It's better that you get away from here, and go somewhere you'll be safe from this. There's too many people who want you dead." Peronel could see in Dane's eyes that the price on his own head didn't matter to him.

"It'll be better for me. We could never have moved away, just you and I, and raised a family. It'd have beeen miserable, you know that. At least with Marwick's brother as my husband, I'll be able to live a happy life and not wonder if I'll even have a next meal. I'm better off without you."

Dane swayed on his feet, not quite believing what he was hearing. He'd always known the chances of a life with Peronel were slim, but that didn't mean he hadn't had hopes. Their was his own hope, and the thought that maybe Peronel had enough faith in him to take care of her. Apparently not. Numbly Dane let her go, feeling as if his world was tumbling apart.

Peronel felt fresh tears trickle down her face. Dane's eyes were quickly turning to stone, erasing all the emotion from his face. Somehow it was worse than seeing the anguish that had burned in his eyes not a moment before. "I'm so sorry," she told him, wishing she could see some trace of emotion on his face just one last time.

Still as stone Dane stood, and it seemed as if the very fight had gone out of him. His shoulders were slumped, his hands hung limp at his sides. He'd taken a step back from Peronel. He'd thought it hurt to lose someone you loved, but knowing they'd rather marry to a tyrant than be with you was much worse. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much if Dane didn't know it was true. Peronel would be better off without him.

Behind Peronel a guard, now aided by several others, pulled the cell's iron door open. A guard slipped in, and keeping Peronel between him and Dane he put a firm hand on Peronel's shoulder. Another followed him, facing Halt with one hand on his sword hilt.

"Time's up," one murmured, his gaze resting on Dane. He'd seen what both Halt and Dane could do in a fight, and he didn't much like the idea of being anywhere near them. Neither Halt or Dane made a move as they led Peronel away. Vaguely Dane felt her hand slip from his, and he watched her go, hearing her steps retreat away into the darkness.

Brokenly Dane realized she no longer wanted him to follow.

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**Read and review, favorite and alert. =) **


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11! I know, I take forever to update, but thanks for all the reviews, alerts, faves and what not. =)**

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"Well?"

Dane looked at Halt when the Ranger spoke to him. The thief's expression was one of bleak despair. "Well, what?"

The Ranger scoffed and gestured towards the lock. "You don't really intend to stay here and rot, do you?"

Halt hadn't thought things would turn out as they had, and he was beginning to lose his hope in Dane. Halt could probably take a try at picking the lock. He'd seen it done before and had even done it himself a time or two. The Ranger was no expert, but if the lock was as weak as Dane had professed he was confident he could manage. Getting out of the cell wasn't the problem, getting out of the tower was. While Halt thought he could get out on his own it would do better to escape with Dane. It wasn't that Halt still felt Dane had to face justice through trial. He had killed the King after all, but he'd been little more than a pawn in Marwick's game. Now with Marwick heading to the capital Halt was confident in his thoughts that the Princess was in danger.

No, it wasn't that, but more so because Halt believed he might do better to have the thief at his side in an altercation against Marwick. It would be better if Dane finished what he started. Besides, it was smarter to keep Dane close instead of constantly wondering what the thief was up to or what he was planning next.

"Where else do I have to go?" Dane asked. "It's over. Peronel is right, she was always better off without me." Dane sunk down against one wall of the cell, his eyes finding the floor. The storm that Halt had become accustomed to seeing in his eyes had faded, leaving behind only a twisting pit of grief.

"That's not true," Halt objected.

"I don't think that's something you'd know," Dane retorted. "You didn't know her, and you don't know me."

"You speak as if Peronel is already dead," Halt told him.

Dane scoffed, "I don't think that's a fate she'll soon face."

"How can you be so sure?" Halt let silence fall in after his words, and he could see a slight frown to Dane's brow as he thought something through. Just a seed of doubt was all it would take.

"Don't be a fool Dane," The Ranger murmured, "they're not honestly going to treat the killer's woman like a queen, are they?"

Halt could almost hear Dane grinding his teeth in the silence. Slowly, the thief shook his head. "It will be better for her than what I could offer." Dane felt a cold clutch of dread grip his heart. He didn't quite believe his own words.

Before Halt could reply footsteps rang on the flagstones once more. The steps were slow, exuding a competence the Ranger didn't like. Unlike the previous visits, no guard led the way with a torch. It was only three men, none of which looked to be the grim guards assigned to watch the cellar. Kern led the way, a smoldering torch in one hand. He set it in a sconce on the wall opposite of the cell and leaned on the rusty grate to peer at Halt and Dane. A crude reddish glare was cast from the guttering light.

"I wanted to see you both another time before we left for Araluen," Kern told them. His tone could have been conversational if not for the cruel edge of it. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that I'd take good care of your whore for you."

Something like cold fury began to roll off Dane in waves, an almost palpable onslaught of his uneasiness. When Dane didn't reply Kern spat through the bars at the cell's inhabitants.

"Marwick said we had to let you live, but not for long. Just 'til we get things settled. Then I'll come back for you, the both of you. I'll bring the whore back here, and I'll beat you to death in front of her." Kern lurched as he shifted his weight on the bars. He laughed, showing his teeth in a wolf's grin.

Dane made a little sound of discontent and reclined back into the corner of the cell where the shadows were thickest. He had no intentions of hearing a drunk man's ramblings, even if he truly meant them.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence Kern pressed closer to the bars of the cell. "Hey, killer, I'm talking to you."

It took a lot to force himself calm, but Dane did it. He closed his eyes and tried to think of how he would go about stealing the King's crown if he ever got the chance. Part of the game itself was pretending that by some miracle he would live, and that there would be a crown to steal at all. The thief had to wonder if by killing the King he'd set Araluen on some downward spiral to chaos. It was all too easy to find it likely, but then again Dane couldn't say he cared too much. He had never been much of a patriot.

The sound of a key turning in the grate drew Dane from his thoughts. His gaze flicked to Marwick's brother as the man moved to tower over him. Following Kern came his guards. One took a place in the doorway, the other claiming a stance over Halt. The Ranger didn't deign to notice the man, and while Dane had similar intentions of staying insignificant, he wasn't so lucky.

"I said, I'm talking to you, _Killer_."

Even when Kern practically spat the word at Dane the thief stayed still. He would not do this, he decided firmly. The choice however, did not belong entirely to him.

Without much warning Kern leaned forward to grasp a handful of Dane's collar. He jerked the thief to his feet with a painful jolt before he slammed him back against the wall.

"What's wrong killer? Don't you have any love left for the whore you came so far to collect?"

Had Dane had any air left in his lungs he might have snapped a reply at Kern. As it was he could only force himself to draw in one short, ragged breath. The air had been knocked clear out of him, and Kern chose to keep a tight grip on his collar. The man had twisted it until the fabric felt uncomfortably like a noose around Dane's throat, thwarting his attempt at breathing.

Leering, Kern thrust his face closer to Dane's, pressing the thief flatter against the wall behind him. Dane's head pounded, screaming at him to fight for the air he could barely draw into his lungs. His vain efforts to kick at Kern only resulted in the man firming his grip and forcing the gag tighter.

Ruefully, Dane decided if he was to die here he'd do it without fear. He fixed Kern with a piercing glare of his frigid eyes and choked the words forward with as much dignity he could muster.

"Burn in hell."

A sound like fury emitted from Kern, and wordlessly he rammed his fist into Dane's belly. The thief bit back a gasp of pain as he doubled over. The movement was made awkward by Kern's grip on his collar. The bigger man seemed bent on strangling Dane with his own cloak. When Kern finally did let go of Dane the thief was greeted by a fist to his jaw before the knight let him sink to the floor, mind reeling.

"I should cut those devil's eyes right out of your head," Kern sneered. He spat at Dane, who lay crumpled at his feet. The thief was no good in fist fights, he never truly had been. Sure, he could knock someone down if he caught them by surprise, but with Kern standing over him he didn't have a chance. The knight's shoulders were far wider than Dane's, and his height and girth dwarfed the thief. Dane could do little more than keep quiet and hope Kern left him as he was.

Unfortunately, Dane would not swallow his pride.

"As if you could," the thief taunted.

Another bear like growl burst from Kern before Dane was yoked back onto his feet. The knight shoved Dane out of the cell in front of him, calling for his guards to follow.

For a moment Dane had hopes that he could escape them on foot, if only he could get ahead of them and out of the dungeon before they called for others. Bitterly, Dane wondered what reason he had left to escape for.

The thief came back to awareness when Kern knocked his legs from beneath him.

"Some are scared of you, you know. Even my brother thinks it better not to allow you too much freedom for fear of what you might do to him if you get away."

From his hands and knees on the damp stone Dane looked up at Kern to see the malice that burned in the man's eyes. Dane had no idea what he had done to deserve such a show of hostility, but it clearly didn't bode well for him. Kern kicked Dane in the side with one booted foot, his assault as good a confirmation to Dane's thoughts as any.

"Me? I'm not scared of you at all. You're just a murderer who sat too high on his horse, and you know what?"

Dane felt himself being dragged upright again just as he began to get his breath back. Dazedly, he recognized Kern as the knight put his face close to his. He made a show of glaring into the thief's unsettling eyes fearlessly, getting close enough to give Dane a sudden smothering whiff of the drink on Kern's breath.

"I'm knocking you off."

* * *

Halt could hear the sound of someone being beaten in the dark. It was not the screams or cries that let him know what was happening somewhere outside the cell. Of those, there were none. Of soft thuds and the near muted hiss of a blade leaving a scabbard, there were many.

The guards and Kern had left the Ranger locked in the dungeon cell when they'd taken Dane. Even with the light from the ensconced torch close by Halt could see nothing of the four men but the flickering shadows of firelight that might have been cast by them. From the sound of Kern's maniacal laughter and the occasional muffled grunts from Dane, Halt assumed the thief was not doing well. Briefly he considered trying to help Dane. The Ranger had the pick, but what could he do to help the thief when he had nothing but a sliver of wood and a flat little knife?

Nothing that would end with him and Dane escaping, that was for sure. There was no guaranty that Dane would help fight off Kern and his men if Halt came to his rescue. Even if the thief wanted to make a break for it, there was no guaranty Dane would be able to stand, let alone fight. From the way it sounded Halt did not think the rescue or Dane's welfare stood much of a chance at all.

For a long time the Ranger sat in silence, listening to the dreadful sounds of the beating. Something slammed against stone and rang oddly in the dungeon, making Halt wince. Part of Halt knew he shouldn't feel any sympathy for Dane. The man had killed the King and stabbed a Ranger. As far as torture went the thief would be getting far worse if he were back at the castle where he was supposed to be.

Of course, Dane had not killed the King for himself. He had not stabbed Crowley for his own personal gain. It had all been for Peronel, or so he said. Halt found it unlikely to believe someone would go so far for the well being of one woman, but he'd seen it. He'd seen the way Dane looked at her. It was the same way Will looked at Alyss, and maybe even the same way that Halt looked at Pauline.

It was not an excuse, he told himself. It didn't justify what Dane had done. Halt owed Dane nothing at all of kindness, of that he was confident.

And yet Halt sat rolling the makeshift pick between his fingers, wondering when it was he had begun to see his king's killer as something other than guilty.

* * *

Everything hurt.

It was the only way of describing the agony that consumed Dane. His torture had ended sometime in the earliest hours of the morning. At least, Dane had thought it would end when the blows that had been reigning down on him for what seemed like lifetimes finally abated. The thief's assumption could not have been further from the truth.

Someone took hold of the tattered remains of Dane's collar and dragged him back to his cell. The thief had no strength left to force himself to his feet, let alone do anything to hamper his captor. He let himself be drug across the cold flagstones, forcing the groans that rose to choke him back down his throat. He would not give them that satisfaction, not now. Not when he was so close to being free of them.

The screech of the rusted hinges of the iron cell door was just a distant sound to Dane, reaching down to him where he lay stranded in a world of pain. A moment after he heard the door open he was drug a short distance further and simply let to drop to the cold cellar floor. Again he found himself fighting the betraying sounds of his agony as they rose in him.

Another screech and a clang, followed by the sound of receding boot steps. Dane sighed out, the movement lacing him with little ribbons of pain that wrapped around him. He focused on the feel of his badly swollen face resting against the damp floor. The thief pressed his cheek there, feeling the coldness seep into him. How simple it would be to lay still and die, to let the life flow out of him to be replaced by the leeching cold. Dane was sure he could already feel it now as the warmth of his skin was doused by cold stone.

"Dane?"

Warily, the thief cracked open one throbbing eye to look at a crouching shape that had moved closer to him. It took Dane a moment to distinguish Halt in the gloom. The sight of Halt did not make him feel any more secure than he already did. They might as well have caged him with the lions for all Dane cared.

"Halt." He said the Ranger's name in a parched voice that didn't quite sound like himself. Dane said it more or less because he didn't want to say nothing at all. He had spent a great deal of time keeping quiet in the night. He wished he could say it felt good to speak, but it didn't. The effort only brought to vivid life the aches and throbs of his body, making him remember all too clearly the feel of fists and feet beating him senseless.

Dane only wished they had stopped there. Having no desire to relive his hellish night, Dane shoved the thoughts from his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine something that would take the mind of his current distress.

Dimly Dane became aware of the hands that shifted him from where he lay face down on the floor, rolling him onto his back. He winced, contained a groan of protest and opened his eyes to shoot a glare at Halt. Try as he might to get the Ranger's attention without uttering a word, Halt did not look at Dane. He went about what he was doing, unclasping his cloak and rolling it into a tidy ball to settle gently under Dane's head.

The tension eased in Dane's shoulders, and he suddenly realized he had been poised as though someone were about to strike him. He allowed himself a quiet sigh.

Halt watched as Dane's icy eyes slid shut. The Ranger began to move away to let the thief rest when Dane spoke.

"We're not staying here," he croaked. For a brief moment Dane's gaze held an odd touch of pleading and agony as he locked eyes with Halt. Before the Ranger could be sure of what he saw Dane turned his head away to unknowingly expose a vast purpling bruise that sprawled over one side of his neck.

Halt almost didn't hear the words Dane breathed into the silence.

"I won't let that bastard touch her."

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**Read and review! =) It's greatly appreciated. This chapter wasn't very long, and I'm not sure I portrayed Dane's bounce back as well as I had hoped to. Thoughts? =\**


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